Who Are You?
by untouchablerogue15
Summary: It was a dangerous game, shuffling a deck of only hearts, but both mutants knew there was still only one king and one queen.
1. Reality

Hey Everyone, this will be more of a serious fanfic.

R&amp;R!

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**Reality**

"Ah know who y'really ar'Gambit." She had not ventured to bequeath that title to him in years, the enemies that they were or not. He was 'swamp rat' or 'Cajun' or if he had luck on his side his genuine, albeit coarse name would slip past her tender, untouched lips. However, Gambit? Gambit implied a liar, Gambit implied a cheater, and Gambit implied a thief. Now she bestowed such a name as his real self and it forced his heart to twist in agony. "Y'think it goes unnoticed y'show up with a new gal ev'rywhere y'go? How y'wake up in one bed an' 'sleep' in an'ther? It doesn' Gambit, an' Ah won' be an'ther of y'r conquests either, so put that out o'y'r mahnd right now." Each time she uttered the word a fresh bullet pierced him. Rogue loomed on the top cream-colored step of the Institute, hand on exposed hip due to ripped macabre jeans and voice stern. "This team trusts each other. Tell meh whose trust y'have, Gambit." She paused to let him think even though they both knew the answer. "Y'don' have mahne and sure don' have the teams'. D'y'even have y'r own teams'?" Reading the expression on his face presented her the answer she sought, "Why don' y'go back where y'came from?"

Unable to vocalize even a whimper, Gambit pivoted on the heels of his boots to leave. As the uncouth summer breeze whipped at his broken countenance, he could perceive Rogue calling out to him. Turning back hopefully, his child-like gaze was met with a scowl on perfectly tantalizing mauve lips, "Y'forgot this." She let a crumpled napkin, stained with beer and grease descend from her gloved palm. As Remy meticulously straightened out each corner, he could distinguish the grubby digits of a woman's phone number he met a few days ago. Before he could defend himself, the scaling glass doors clamored shut and Rogue had disappeared.

Bike humming beneath him, Remy commanded his body not to let even a slight sign of sorrow show. Infuriated with himself most of all, he did the one thing he knew would make it worse: called that number. The only words spoken were a livid, "I'm comin' o'er."

Nearly battering down the woman's apartment door, he entered with no words, snatched a handful of her flaxen hair and forced her on to the dining room table as he clambered on top. She was attractive enough, after all, he had a reputation to uphold, but she was not Rogue, none of them were. He could not even remember her name, Brandi? Maybe Britney? After a while the names started to elude him as he only cared about one and began to exclaim it every time. She, whoever she was, did not mind. Answering the door in her skimpiest lingerie, which he would have described as tasteless instead of sexy if he had even bothered to look, she knew exactly why he was there.

However, this time resentment in place of desire surged through his veins. Without notice after the initial few thrusts, the woman beneath him began to squirm and whimper, as he was rougher than usual, almost violent. Remy was utterly consumed in self-hatred and self-loathing that he was deaf to his surroundings. The woman began to shriek and arch her back, not in pleasure but in an endeavor to escape his touch. Impulsively, a masculine hand draped in a cut-out glove outstretched into the feverous air and met the woman's cheek with a rigid blow in an attempt to silence her. Yet, her screams continued in vain.

Incapable of achieving release, Remy's glazed eyes languidly glanced downwards; he could scarcely distinguish the scene. Where his hand had enveloped gorgeous flaxen curls, a detached mangled lock resided. Where there was a woman's face bathed in ecstasy, tears streamed down a violet-colored cheek he could not remember striking. Where he had been inundated in strictly physical pleasure, drops of scarlet pearls trailed from scrapes of his unbuckled belt. The woman's voice still resounding in shrills was just now audible to him, "Get out! Get off me! Leave! Get out before I call the cops!" She sang out in a chorus of distress. Panicked, Remy hurtled off the woman and darted for the door as she heaved a glass vase at his head that shattered against the carved mahogany.

Terror triggering his head to reel and his mind to pound within its skull, he nearly bounded onto his bike backwards. The scene he absconded from was still a blur in his memories. 'The sex was rough and just got out of hand' he struggled to assure himself. Contemplations sent aches throughout his unabridged body as he wondered if he would be coerced to run from the police yet again, or worse be labelled as a rapist, as abusive. Jail was effortless to escape from, however labels were another matter entirely. The reality was he had assaulted that harlot of a woman for the reason that he could not face the wretched existence of himself or the rejection of Rogue because of it. A realization more formidable than the wind thrashing at his now sickly features, it compelled him to veer off the road and spew bile over the side of the expressway.

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**Disclaimer: I do not own X-men/X-men evo**


	2. Titles

**Titles**

Rogue, as cruel to him as she was, could not deny there was a certain magnetism about Gambit that she delighted in, then again neither could any other woman. It was not unique to fall for the Cajun charmer, what would be unique would be him falling. Of course, this would never happen due to the fact that once he fell in love he lost the game, and Remy LeBeau never lost. Each new conquest made Rogue cringe, her stomach contorting into knots. She was not as naïve as other woman, especially not as Tabitha who had already been defeated in this game after a lust-filled night of screams and bed breaking which she still boasted about to this day. Rogue would not be a conquest, she would not be another victorious match for him, another pretty face, she would not lose the game because she neglected to play, the oldest trick in the book. Although, not like she could play even if she wanted to with her fatal skin. This revelation brought about both sanctuary and apprehension. It was a dangerous game, shuffling a deck of only hearts, but both mutants knew there was still only one king and one queen.

Gambit had already dubbed Rogue his queen. No matter how hard she tried to forget, or how deep she buried the swamp-soaked playing card in her drawers, the notion never absconded from the depths of her mind. His words, his fleeting hand, his eyes… all seared into Rogue's subconscious since New Orleans. Especially his eyes. Eyes that disturbed his other conquests to the extent that he had begun to adorn contacts entranced her. They were akin to swaying vermilion pools prevailing against an onyx sky of immeasurable depth. One could become lost in them and they made her knees weak. Rogue scoffed at the idea of him ever concealing them, especially for meaningless flirtations.

If she truly was the queen then she was a different type altogether. The type her subjects did not dare to cross, the solemn, yet powerful type. However, Rogue did not flatter herself as Gambit had done by bequeathing herself such as title. Her identity was Rogue for a reason. She had mulled it over several times, the meaning. 'Rogue' had many definitions, all of which fit: scoundrel, dishonest, vagabond, mischievous, deviant. Not a name one adorns when endeavoring to acquire trust. Not that she had anyone's trust besides Logan's. After driving her only boyfriend into a permanent state of comatose, she fled Mississippi and threatening redneck parents; she had switched sides in this mutant war and even endeavored to slaughter her 'mother', the mansion had been the longest place she had ever resided and not without a fight. Logan understood though, he was all too familiar with the emotions of wrath and mayhem; he was his own type of rogue just like her. She had undeniably earned her name and even silently treasured it.

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**Disclaimer: I do not own x-men/x-men evolution**


	3. Thoughts

Hey Everybody, sorry I have not updated this in almost a year!

However, my winter break is coming up soon and I hope to focus on this story for most of it

R&amp;R and enjoy!

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One distressing, encircling thought refused Rogue refuge even in the depths of sleep. The notion she could 'save' Remy so profoundly seared through her brain it penetrated even her subconscious thoughts in an endless pursuit to be acknowledged. As Rogue uneasily sweat through jade-colored sheets, her mind reeled with Gambit's voice soothing past her ears in reminiscence of dark chocolate, vowing the words, "Y'will be fine, Cherie. Y'got people watchin' out f'you." And she did. Rogue knew very well that was the sole reason she had survived. However, Gambit? Rogue's porcelain cheek buried itself into the cool fabric of her pillow as she realized once more that he had no one watching out for him. Not the acolytes. Certainly not the guild. He came to her searching for sanctuary and her jealousy and pride turned him away.

"Ah could've saved him," Rogue mumbled through restless sleep.

However, was he really worth saving?

The professor would say yes.

He deceived, he fought, he did whatever he desired whenever he desired for his own gain, no loyalty. There were aspects of him Rogue deplored… and yet other aspects she adored. He possessed the capability to expose her to new sensations. A trait she held in high regard. Rogue had undergone countless experiences in her short lifetime and reveled in the idea of new occurrences and emotions. It was akin to uncharted territory and she was an explorer eager to discover it all. Perhaps, Gambit would bring some excitement to her life whenever she began to become bored of it. She knew what she ought to do; she knew what was better for her. Nevertheless, what a drag always doing what one knew was better for them really was. The only setback was that little voice in her head. In all occasions she ignored it but one, whenever it came to her mutation. In the realm of physical contact, Rogue was more than content to let that voice take over in order to keep others safe. This was solely because others were at risk, Rogue had always been (and did not plan to change anytime soon) rather reckless when it came to herself.

Her soaked torso shot up from the now disheveled bed as she racked her trembling fingers through tangled tresses endeavoring to nurse her newfound headache. Rogue tumbled back on her clammy pillow with a thud and lamented, "What am Ah goin' t'do?"

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Remy had lapsed every night and day since the attack drowning his sorrows and torments by means of every kind of alcohol the local bars had on their shelves. A few keepers had the audacity to cut him off resulting in a flurry of surging cards concealing watery eyes; however, the others witnessed the torturous agony in his demonic eyes and were sympathetic. Even his profound meres of steadfast ebony quivered with thoughts of his own slipping morality. Letting tears escape the pitch abysses of his eyes, which were only noticeable by the left over gleam cutting deep into his rigid cheeks, Remy did not endeavor to conceal his sorrow. Everything Rogue had barked at him high above from those ivory steps had been the truth. He had no one's trust and he was well aware of that. She was the lucky one, with a family, no matter how overprotective and uptight they were.

Wait?

What was he thinking?

He was Gambit, he flirted with luck in the bar and then never called her again, he snuck out of luck's back door as she was still snoring in bed, he oozed luck…and confidence. Where did this girl get off creeping into his head like that?

He was Gambit, Prince of Thieves, and just to prove his point, Gambit nicked the wallet from the sloshed halfwit staggering his way through the maze of table and chairs to order another drink and charmed his girl out of her cheap crimson dress in the bathroom before he absconded from the building.

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Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: Do not own the X-men/X-men evolution


	4. War

**Hey, promised I'd be working on this one some more! **

**Hope you enjoy and there's a little song fanfic component to this chapter of Irresistible by Fall Out Boys featuring Demi Lovato if you pick up on it ;) **

**As always R&amp;R!**

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The familiar charm of russet brick soothed his coarse fingertips as Gambit peered about the corner of the local glitter and sweat-filled gentleman's club, his eyes narrowing on his prey as ivory and auburn tresses mingled clumsily into a high bun amidst fingerless boxing gloves. Even in the fervor of pursuit, he could never deny when he witnessed a beautiful woman and she was certainly stunning. The iridescence of her emerald eyes continuously harbored the fires of anguish beneath them. Gambit had to admit her eyes were by far his favorite physical attribute; they gleamed akin to lost treasure and breathed her unabridged story without uttering a word. Windows to the soul indeed, he smirked to himself.

Any respectable hunter could convey that the first step of success was surveillance, and Gambit was a commendable hunter. He peered into the agony and frustration washing over Rogue's face with every kick of the tattered punching bag. She had _no_ release. Her past sins always nipping at her heels as a collage of moral individuals who seemed never to misbehave encircled her, she was not even afforded the most primitive of physical releases with her mutation and the wear and tear was unmistakable on her face. A physical release would have embraced an effortless solution for Gambit. If he could simply charm her and walk away, her stern voice would not pierce his thoughts in the dead of night. If he could just charm her and walk away the obsession would be there, yes, but it would be purely tangible, as he would never even waste the time to acquire her name let alone her thoughts… If he could merely charm her and walk away there would be no threat of unmasking his own sins for the reason that he would embody no desire to win over both her mind and body. Rogue was not an automatic win in this game he delighted in playing. That fact drove him to the brink of insanity and he wished he could do nothing more than forget her, nevertheless he could not and he became very aquatinted with that notion.

His thoughts turned sour, he wished not to ponder about who he was, what kind of man he was, and she had no right to do this to him! A low growl settled in his throat. As much as he desired her, he had a glimmer of animosity for her and the mirror she held up to his soul with no more than a flash of her overwhelming eyes. Well, to Gambit, life was a game, and this? This was just a different chapter of it. If she was capable of penetrating his cognizance all the way to its deepest, darkest reaches then he could do the same to her…

Let the games begin.

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Beads of perspiration trickled down Rogue's porcelain skin as she concluded her rather distracted work out. Even the strenuous exercise and blaring punk rock was not enough to rid her of her earlier lamentations. Seeking cool relief, she snapped her soaking charcoal tank hard against her exposed skin and was met with disappointment. Her mind reeled with thoughts of what could and should be. 'Y'could be the one lookin' out f'r him. Fat lot of good that'll do him though, y'can barely keep y'rself together.' An enraged sob ripped through her body, even thoughts of him seemed to set her temples ablaze with guilt.

Unbeknownst to her, the man who plagued her very existence had stolen his way through the backdoor letting the scent of Cajun spice and cigarettes dance about and encapsulate Rogue's weary physique. Tasting the potent spice twirling in the air before she ever glimpsed Gambit, Rogue was under the impression she had gone mad. She was sorely reminded otherwise when a looming shadow drew from behind her punching bag, scrapping his staff along the tiled floor for added effect. "Y'r such an unhappy girl," he crooned with a hint of malice in his suave voice. The narrowing of his mystifying garnet eyes triggered every nerve ending in Rogue's figure to freeze, breath hitched. The immediate tension electrifying its way between them was unbearable in magnitude.

She narrowed her eyes in response, still unable to breathe. "Reusin' lahnes now, are we Gambit?" She hissed, although fondly remembering the steamy air that whipped about her on a train car to Louisiana. She remarked that his eyes were just as profound and equally unnerving as they had been when he challenged her to absorb him with a yank of her silken onyx gloves. The air stilled even though the tension kept mounting, as both seemed to be lost in happier memories of the other. "Or d'y'jus' use 'em so of'en y'forget which girl y'used it on?" Rogue's voice was now frosted with bitterness as she was wrenched from her recollections. She very nearly thought she perceived a wince of agony startle across Gambit's usually unyielding face at her scornfulness. However, his swift recovery denounced any more thoughts of that nature.

Rogue was beginning to swell in his mind, to take up a permanent residence, and for Gambit, that would not do. He discerned only one technique to be able to lurk in a woman's thoughts for the rest of her days, and that was seduction. Consequently, he endeavored to once again exploit the tricks of the trade on Rogue. "Jus' offerin' my concern, Cherie," he purred, attempting to procure complete control of the situation.

Rogue spat back fire in a brimming contest for dominance which electrified the air. Gambit remorsefully remarked that with the lack of Rogue's poison skin such trysts for dominance would be savagely pleasurable in the bedroom. "Don' bother." With every piercing glance of her emerald eyes she struggled to unnerve the unwavering man in front of her, despite the fact she could only stare for so long before his eyes started to affect her instead.

"I jus' followed y'r scent," he flashed a wicked grin, "y'could nev'r jus' follow mon smile, could you?"

A scowl arched her unadulterated lips as the thought of trailing that devilish smirk revealed the betrayal anyone who has trusted him has ultimately experienced. Her anger, however, was not yet to the boiling point of desiring to cut him to the bone and due to this fact she denounced another one of his habits she deplored. "Mah scent?" she scoffed offended. "It's y'r second hand smoke ev'rywhere that Ah'm breathing in." It was akin to breathing _him_ in and even that level of intimacy frightened Rogue. Not even a flinch of grief shown across his rough visage, obviously she was not the first woman to abhor his smoking, merely the first for that reason which she was grateful he was ignorant of. Otherwise, she knew he would discover a way to exploit it to her downfall.

"It draws in d'femmes like you wouldn't believe," he was intentionally trying to slither under her skin. Unmistakably perceiving her ivory skin shudder and crawl, he simpered in success.

"Lahke moths getting' trapped in the lightbox," she whispered more to herself than him, and he had to admit he quite enjoyed the flattering metaphor until a sharp thought hissed to the forefront of his mind: he was Rogue's moth.

Unacceptable.

Gambit's stance immediately warped into that of a fighter. The malice he harbored for Rogue stronger than the allure at the moment. Teeth clenched, an echoing snarl settled on his chapped, worn lips at the very thought that she was still so embedded in his head. He simply could not come to terms with such knowledge. Not one to be vulnerable again, Rogue could

detect the tell-tale signs of battle even amidst the inky darkness that seeped through the private gym windows. Priming for war it appeared, horns could virtually be perceived roaring in the background.

Dilated pupils nearly eclipsing the crimson rings of his eyes in ferocity, Gambit menacingly leveled his staff at Rogue's heaving chest. "What? Can't face the truth?" she sparred, sending him over the edge. A blur of metal whirled itself about his body until swiftly colliding with the back of her ankles. Almost in shock as she battered the ground, Rogue realized the two of them had not engaged in a physical confrontation in some time now. However, it was only a matter of time with the amount of harassing they exchanged, both playful and serious. For them there were too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores.

Hastily tumbling bare feet above her dizzied head, Rogue took a crooked knee and hyper extended the other leg with a prompt flourish causing a blur of tanned leather and pink armor to clatter alongside her. "Ah'll take that as a no," she taunted, not quite sure what inspired such malevolence in her.

Lost in contemplation (a rookie mistake during a battle), Rogue did not take notice of the partially gloved hand snatching the dripping fabric of her tank and hurling her into the air, only to be plunged on to her back beside Gambit. Refusing to release his grip, Gambit gamboled on top of her. Drawing her torso up to his he clamored in a gruff voice, "Can you?"

The truth was a tricky concept when it came to Rogue. She spent most of her adolescence not knowing what it even was. However, Rogue did not exactly revoke Mystique's teachings when it came to truth in regards to her emotions. Perhaps she negated her passions for the reason that she considered anyone who expressed an interest in her deserved better, and by better she always meant touchable. Perhaps it truly was all the betrayal as an adolescent. _Truth_ was the answer comprised both these reasonings and she too endeavored to evade their veracities.

Scrutinizing her emerald eyes darting about in transfixing contemplations, Gambit's expression softened although his fist remained a tight ball of damp fabrics. "No," she breathed, the word so heavy it could almost be seen drowning in the air. They paused as Gambit envied her for being able to admit it, even if it was without conviction. Her absent eyes lolled to greet his in a flurry of stupefaction. Each simultaneously desired to both confess to the other and yet stay mute.

"I… I tried," Gambit stuttered. Rogue's mind reeled with notions of what he might be alluding to, when she was sharply ripped from them by the continuation of his accented voice. "Tried t'say live an' let live. T'forget you an' y'r charms." Her expression held steadfast, however the same could not be said of Gambit. "But I can't! Not wit' you." The conviction stifled the air about them. The sheer power flowing through the words was enough to make a grown man shudder. He loomed his scarred torso over hers, a firm hand planted on each side of her frozen face. "I love d'way y'hurt me," slanting down he lightly brushed her cheek with his if only for a millisecond, enough to feel a sharp pain but not slip into the ether of unconsciousness, and whispered, "it's irresistible," obviously regaining his charisma. Hot breath pirouetted about her outer ear as an involuntary shiver burned through Rogue's physique. She absorbed just enough of him to discern how true his conviction really was, and the two sensations in concert quivered her very core. Naturally, Rogue did what she always had, her willowy hands thrusted Gambit with enough force to skid him across the cool tile and she ran.

With a dazed, devilish smirk curling his portly lips Gambit trailed her with his eyes chuckling, "Mi amour, I'm comin' fo' you an' I'm makin' war."

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**Disclaimer: I obviously do not own X-men Evo or Fall Out Boy**


	5. Tease

**Hey Everybody! **

**All I really have to say is Happy Holidays **

**R&amp;R!**

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Gazing upon plump mauve lips encircling a slender gloved finger as Rogue bit her nail in indecision, Gambit suffered a familiar sensation burn through him. The season was growing a bit chilly to be peering in from the outside as he discovered over the past week of stalking Rogue, to say it blatantly. Facial hair frosted over with gleaming ice crystals, he decided to engage Rogue for the first time since their tryst in the gym. His body glided effortlessly through the blizzard roaring beyond the windows of the café and made quite the entrance as the door burst open with a hiss of snow as the cheap bell tolled above his head, trench coat billowing about resilient legs. He had not intended to make such an entrance, as he yearned to take Rogue by surprise, nevertheless the storm had plans of its own it would seem. Rogue barely lifted her head from her laminated menu. She was not oblivious. She caught a glimpse of Gambit's trench coat after only two days of him trailing her and could almost always locate his vantage point in which to peep on her ever since. As annoyed as she was at first, she decided to not let on about her foreknowledge and instead play Gambit just how he would play any other girl.

Admittedly, she had an unfair advantage as the part of Gambit that resided in her head offered her little hints and tricks as to what he likes. For example, the finger biting. Such an allurement had always seemed off limits to her due to the fact she adorned gloves, but that only drove the little voice in her head wilder. Crossing her smooth, ashen legs beneath the table she made note of the scorching crimson eyes that followed the laced, not zipped as was usual, boots up to her thighs. Another suggestion from inside her head. All this was undeniably fun for Rogue because she was _safe_. There was no threat of actual physical contact or emotional attachment. Until now.

He was too close for comfort, even being up at the bar, and his pores practically oozed pheromones. Rogue, suddenly wishing her glove was not embellished with lipstick marks and her skirt was elongated enough to conceal her outlandish boots, began fidgeting. What had she been thinking? Listening to a voice in her head, especially Gambit's. It was foolish. She endeavored to still her fiddling as the cherry booth squeaked with each wriggle and she was beginning to draw unwelcome attention. Her upper hand in this game had just flown out the window as Gambit sauntered over, two drinks in hand.

Gambit under no circumstances ever had to attempt to keep his composure around a woman before, it always came naturally. However, he could never say the same for Rogue, although he tried for the longest time. She was a loaded gun and it enticed him. Sure, he had damaged girls in the past, but those were mostly 'daddy issues' and easier to get into bed that way. Rogue was something different, something he had never encountered before. Even her emerald eyes revealed that reality to him. No one's eyes had ever unnerved him the way his unnerved others, entranced him the way his entranced others, until he witnessed her angel eyes. They hypnotized him, although he would never divulge that in speech or expression.

In addition, and in all due fairness, Gambit was not oblivious either. Rogue was notorious for veiling her sexuality, both mentally and physically. And that abruptly halted? And moreover she just chanced to be striking all _his_ specific enticements? No. For obvious reasons, he allowed the charade to continue, only one of which was because he wondered how far she would go. However, after five days of observing her behavior shift from shielded to seductive and her outfits mimic, he could not endure only surveying from a distance anymore.

"Bonjour, cherie," his accent purred across the table, "You look nice." More fidgeting. Rogue clasped her wrist hard to refuse herself the freedom of twisting her rings beneath the onyx silk. She was having fun sure, but once again being in close enough proximity to be able to inhale the appetizing aroma of Cajun spices triggered panic to quiver each of her bones, and Gambit did not require heightened senses to notice. "New boots?" He smirked. Gambit always reaped confidence when he discerned his capability of intimidating whichever striking woman he was currently chasing. Rogue's heels were twirling about each other with such furry one slipped and collided with Gambit. Her eyes widened with shock when she realized it was not the table she had struck as his face winced. "If I wanted a clos'r look I would have gott'n on my knees wit'out d'encouragement." Her face flushed akin to the color of her antagonist's eyes.

A faint shrill escaped her throat as she attempted to dart away once more when a strapping hand sliced through the dewy air to snatch the fabric swaddling her wrist. A glimpse of pleading was momentarily perceptible in Gambit's ethereal eyes. Then all of a sudden it vanished, as did his grip on her as he consented her departure. Forgiveness flashed in her emerald eyes, an emotion Gambit had not witnessed since he was a child, and he ached for more. The click of her heels resounding throughout the café as she spun back to take a swig of the frothy beverage he had purchased for her. With a devilish smirk of her own she loomed above his seated figure and absolved the froth off her upper lip with the tip of her untouched tongue before withdrawing with assurance.

He was not the only male that ogled Rogue as she promenaded to her motorcycle after that, eyes glazed over as a sensation he was quite acquainted with smoldered through him. The harsh, cool wind that seared through the open door and nipped at his features broke the trance and he finally recognized the key to winning Rogue was not intimidation, but acceptance.

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**Really appreciate all the support and more chapters coming soon!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-men evo**


	6. Simple Man

**Hey Everybody**

**Hope you are enjoying your holidays **

**Fun fact: I am very subtly incorporating the songs I use for inspiration in the chapters they apply to**

** (not every chapter will have a song) **

**and will reveal the song in the next chapter's author note if applicable**

**Last chapter was Boss's Daughter by Pop Evil**

**R&amp;R!**

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As steam seeped through the pores of the mahogany entrance of Rogue's bathroom a hum could be perceived faintly dizzying itself from within. The whirr was almost joyful in tune. Words just about slipped past her taught lips as she involuntarily hummed. An alabaster bath towel wrapped tight about her, tucked in to itself for stability, swayed as she did while a brush mingled her wet ivory and auburn hair together. She was almost oblivious to her own bliss which portrayed itself through muffled song.

Rogue meandered, practically in a twirling fashion, out into her bedroom and was happy at times comparable to this that she no longer shared a room with Kitty. Even in the safety of solitude that her lone bedroom provided she was eager to get covered up as soon as possible. Slender fingers stirring through her intimates' drawer in pursuit of an outfit to wear to bed, Rogue stiffened as she caressed a parched playing card concealed in the abyss. Another reason Rogue was pleased Kitty had her own room now, she was not exactly shy when it came to 'borrowing' without permission. It was not often Rogue was able to touch with her actual skin, and not through gloves. The few times she could she revealed in the moment, making mental notes and often revisiting them. The torn edges of the playing card were one of her favorite sensations, how the wrinkled paper slightly crunched beneath her fingers and the design

puckered just enough so that she could trace the gentle slopes of the 'Q'.

Lost in her perceptions, Rogue did not notice the draped man watching her intently from her balcony, leg propped on the railing parallel to where he sat in a relaxed, yet suggestive manner. He let the wind do his bidding as it gusted open her crystalline doors. Rogue's figure jerked from the wholehearted shock, slamming the drawer on her wrist with a loud curse. (Thankful though that she had not lost her towel.)

"Rem—Gambit?!" Shock overcame the rage in her voice. She could not bequeath his real name back to him yet. He was still a gambit, a ploy, a trick, a ruse, and she could not overlook or be ignorant of that. They had their titles for a reason. The faint grin that snuck across his lips perished as she dodged about his real name. "Been a'while since Ah found y'out there in the dead a'night," her voice regained its composed demeanor, this was not abnormal after all.

"Can only be away from a belle femme for so long," he leaned back to where a normal person would lose his balance, but for him the action only succeeded in riding his shirt up to let the icy breeze sting his toned skin. She was beginning to affirm her longstanding judgements that all he could do was flirt. He had shown glimmers of compassion in their intertwined timeline: the card, the incident at the café last week. Through the years she dissected his life, his personality, had him in her head enough to declare that she knew what kind of man he truly was and the results were not good. However, these glimmers confused her, frightened her even as they brought them closer together. She could no longer shroud her emotions behind a judgement, right or wrong.

"An' seein' as how you are d'most beautiful, Remy had to be here," he purred, hoping his utilization of the name would soften her to the idea.

Gambit, in spite of the sensitive situation, could not deny himself the pleasure of looking Rogue over in her current state. Her damp tresses were disheveled as if she had already experienced what he had a growing desire to do to her, and even though the bath towel reached her mid-thigh it exposed more of her skin than he had ever seen before.

Rogue had to physically snap her fingers in the frigid air to draw him from his stupor. "Is that all y'are?" she roared, hot tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes as his gaze stayed fixed. "Look at mah eyes!" Her decibel level only increased. "Y'know Ah told y'Ah knew who y'were when y'asked t'join a few weeks ago an' now Ah'm goin' t'tell y'exactly who that is. Y'r a cheat, Gambitn. Y'have no loyalty, no devotion, no love!" The last word was not meant to be uttered and pierced the air akin to a knife. "Y'use an' abuse. Y'lust after rich man's gold, an' Ah was stupid enough t'think y'were changin'!" She collapsed under the weight of her own foolishness, and whispered the end of her sentence to herself, "f'r meh."

Shame furrowed Gambit's thick brow. These were the veracities he refused to face, the demons he buried away, the reality of who he was, and now he peered upon the suffering heap of gorgeous, untouched skin to see the collateral damage. His realities were altering because of her, whether she would believe that anymore or not, however that did not absolve him of the necessity to confront his past ones. "Ro—"

"Do not ev'n utter mah name!" She shot up in a flourish, shoulders hunched forward in fury.

"It's not even y'r real name!" He was not surprised at the raise in his accented voice, although Rogue was at such a topic. One thing that stirred him up was a secret he could not reveal, a lock he could not crack, a valuable he could not misappropriate for the reason that that simply did not happen.

"How dare you! It's as real as the oth'r, if not more."

"Then why don' nobody know d'other?"

"We choose our titles for a reason, _Gambit_."

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**Thanks so much for all the encouragement **

**Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-men evo or any of the songs I name**


	7. Awoken

**Hey Everybody!**

**Short chapter (sorry!) but with lots of meaning**

**Spring semester started so I have no idea how frequent I can update (sorry again) but I will update, promise!**

**Last chapter song inspiration was very mild and it was no mystery thanks to the title.**

**Simple Man by Shinedown**

**R&amp;R! and Enjoy :)**

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Gambit was never one for accountability. Never counting the steps he took, or the bodies he left behind. More than a confession, silent or not, would be necessary to wash away all his sins. At this point in his life, starting over seemed as if it was an unattainable dream, although not one he was sure he desired. As troubled as his history was, it sculpted him, molded him. He would not be the same man without it. However, as per Rogue's description, maybe he did not want to be the same man. Then again, a 'nice guy' never won her attention the way he did.

He often times affirmed, "yo' had t'play d'hand yo' dealt 'n t'is life" and he reckoned he had done so fittingly, however the cards did not always treat him well. Except her. Except his lucky lady. She never kept him wondering. Gambit constrained no secrets in the fact that he christened Rogue his Queen of Hearts. A title he could not even bequeath to Belladonna when he cared for her. The principal distinction between the two which triggered him to bestow such an endearing designation was not how she captured his eyes or even his emotions as no one else had. No. The lucky lady never faltered to come to his aid, and no matter how much animosity Rogue harbored that was her. Whether she was pleased about it or not. Rogue may not accept his intimacy or even his companionship for that matter, nevertheless she would still bail him out of any situation since New Orleans.

That is where it all began, and now she is right in front of him. Bruised ego shining bright in her glistening eyes as she endeavored to choke back blistering tears. Disgrace compelled his eyes to dart about, unable to meet hers. The future he craved stood in front of him trembling and he was powerless to seize it, to seize her for himself at the moment. All he understood then and there, surrounded by the coarse wind and frigid air off her balcony, was that his bones ached with fires yearning only for her redemption and they would not be quenched by anything lesser. It was finally time for him to wake up, he had been living the same dream for over twenty years, and this untouchable, impossible mutant was the one to wear down his lonely soul. Do not let the reputation fool you, Gambit may constantly boast the company of a lovely woman but he was permanently secluded where it mattered.

The right words for the situation seemed to have vanished. The longer he stood there silently contemplating, the more time Rogue had to recuperate her composure, to become emotionless and invulnerable once more, to dry tears before they ever fell. He was losing his window, but not his fight. His sights were locked on her, and not just her curved body.

"That we do, Cherie," he flourished his hand in a chivalrous farewell and was lost to the pitch of the night. As the leather flaps of his trench coat wafted from Rogue's balcony he vowed silently to himself that he would find her so far away. He would find her after all.

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**Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-men evo or any of the songs I draw from **


	8. Her

**Hey Everybody!**

**Last chapter's song was Footsteps by Pop Evil**

**Are you guys liking the song inspo? I'd love to know**

**R&amp;R!**

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It was not that Gambit did not enjoy a permanent residence in which he desired to spend all his free time. Quite the opposite, he had leased himself a rather dashing New York apartment with stolen funds and even decorated it in proper French Quarter style. However, in his current state he itched to be somewhere else and found his current abode vexing. Sunken into a plush ivory bedspread with flecks of woven gold offset by a backdrop of maroon bricks, Gambit's bored figure unconsciously flicked playing cards towards the mouth of his mounted Mardi Gras mask. He had avoided being in close proximity with Rogue for almost a week now and his days seemed to drone on as they never had before. Allowing her alone time was far more taxing on him than he realized. Gambit could not deny a rather large portion of him hoped that the sudden disappearance not only demonstrated to Rogue he respected her, but more importantly to him compelled her to yearn for his maddening allure. Nevertheless, how dull his days were without her! He thirsted for even a cynical remark or a jaded expression upon her picturesque face, with such intensity it seared.

Such anxiety was novel to him and he loathed it. Originally, Gambit had no aspirations to understand it either, in fact he denied it full-heartedly. Feelings were a nuisance. However, a nuisance he could procure from others on demand, sometimes without even a single utterance. (A wicked, yet useful, trick he would confess.) He would say and they would simply do. But the tables had turned in a dizzying flood of emotions he could scarcely recall all the details of. Gambit was the one on fire now. There was no doubt he was irrefutably enamored. He yearned for nothing less than Rogue's full surrender into him. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Even though he recognized he could not possess one of those yet the longing still burned so much so that he painstakingly jarred open each window behind their twisted iron rods in hopes of attaining a breeze throughout his apartment. The balmy gusts were hardly strong enough to rattle the memory-rich string of jerry beads weaved through the border of his mirror and even his thick, Louisiana skin was too damp for his liking as he resolved to go for a walk.

The walk did little to clear his head. He strutted through a park teeming with unobservant, single mothers and playful infants. One in particular had not gazed upon her child in over twenty minutes as she attempted to nonchalantly put her spandex-covered rear-end on display for Gambit. He chuckled at her while her son shoveled abrasive sand into his glutinous mouth. As relentlessly as his physical urges swarmed him like bees about honey, they boasted only one focus. This one focus penetrated his consciousness infinitely deep such that she was all he saw. Where a desperate, negligent mother stretched for a quick jog about the park she would never partake in, he envisioned only crossed creamy, alabaster legs freshly washed with drips of water sashaying down their lustrous surface. Tracing his eyes up the vision, he could only imagine the rest and as he did a shudder ripped through his restless physique to where he began jogging with blurred, unfocused vision. Curves and crevices that constantly sustained the shroud of clothing were clearly revealed, comparable to stars behind his eyes.

Gambit determined not to go see Rogue in his current state, he was far too worked up. It was not that this, this sex-craved womanizer, was all he was, he hoped, he believed anyways. Nevertheless, Rogue certainly sparked that kind of 'love' as well and Gambit had not dared touch a woman since Brandi. (Britney maybe? Who cares.)

It came as no surprise Gambit's unguided dart through the city steered him towards Rogue. His instincts to follow this path would not fail even in the profoundest black of night or the whitest flurries of snow. The satisfying scrap of cream-colored cement columns grazed Gambit's calloused fingerprints, as he peeked into the mansion's lush courtyard. He spied his prize. Perched on the fountain's rounded barricade, one slender bent leg clasped into her chest as the other stretched out into the emerald grass which would not dare rival her eyes, Rogue seemed to be loathsomely pining. It was an odd mixture of emotions that twisted her countenance. Her hypnotic eyes appeared locked on a target that did not exist in a soft, contemplating melancholy intermingled with ire as the ripped jeans about her knee left indents in her velvety cheek. Gambit longed for this attitude to be his doing simply for the fact that that would indicate he had _some_ effect on her, because she definitely had one on him, even if he was able to obscure it for the first few years of their rivalry.

He gazed at the sun-reflected shimmers of scarlet in her hair for almost twenty minutes contemplating how to make his appearance. As the shadows of night had not emerged to highlight his hellish eyes, Gambit resolved to be reminiscent of their first encounter. A smoldering rose glow illuminated Rogue's pale features as the King of Hearts effortlessly drifted on the wind. Her initial reaction was defense as she was no stranger to the explosion that proceeded. However, the charge was not nearly strong enough to cause anything more than fizzled fireworks. The subsequent emotion was shock as it had been almost a week without so much as a glimpse of his trench coat rounding a corner near her. She endeavored to convince herself he gave up on her for a touchable broad, but the accusations by no means stuck.

"Bonjour, River Rat," he was excited to see her again. Rogue had yet to regain her words. She only gazed upon his unkempt countenance with a blank mind. "Y'been on my mind." How a few words could reassure Rogue so much, she would never understand.

"Y'r always in mahne," she whispered.

The flames inside him gamboled with eagerness, reaching out to the only one who could quench them. The air swiftly became feverous as the shining emeralds Rogue harbored in her eyes swayed towards his and succeeded where words failed. She desperately wished they would hurdle into one another's arms and that would be that, however she was not that foolish. Letting the joy show in her eyes at his arrival was risky enough. She refused to let herself forget the man that lay beneath.

"Chere…" the intimate invitation of his cupped hand gently unsealed for her mere centimeters from her exposed visage. "If you could touch, would—"

"Ah wouldn' touch you!" Her voice snarled much too hastily and much too harshly. The hopefulness in his eyes seemed to shred itself apart, leaving misery in its wake. Her own indignation had seized every nerve ending in her body by now and she went for broke, "Y'reek Gambit! Y'reek o'sev'n women at once an' the ashes o'y'r last cigarette." Rogue obviously omitted the more prominent scent that assaulted her senses whenever he was near, that of burning spices that caused her skin to tingle. "Y'disgust me," she spat, only faintly a lie. Every word he imparted she threw back at him in just the right way to tear him down. Her heart may be akin to stone; however, her mind certainly was not. "Y'think this act is charmin'? That Ah'm flattered the man who entranced a'thousand gals wants meh? If anythin' it makes meh feel unimportant! Jus' an'ther number." She could not help the guarded response. If Rogue was ever to give into what she felt she had to trust him and that entailed ripping into every indignation she held in regards to him.

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**Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own xmen or any of the songs I use**


	9. Confessionals

Hey Everybody!

Sorry I haven't updated in so long! All my midterms seemed to hit me at once

Song from last chapter was "Give in to me" by three days grace

And a special thanks to rougequeen69 for the steady reviews, I always look forward to them! :)

R&amp;R as always!

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The bitter agony Gambit sensed pierce his dwindling physique with every word was annulled by the overwhelming need to confess to her. He could not physically walk away this time. "Y'want to have it out, Chere?" His drawl cultivated cripplingly accompanying his unhinged emotions and he soon could not control his French tongue as it lashed about freely. "Bien, mon dieu vous me tuez! Jolie fille, tu es dans ici!1"

...A week had passed since Rogue had last seen him and even longer since he had touched her, and yet his voice was unbearable in her head. Gambit had left on his own accord during their previous encounter and Rogue's chest sank with the thought that maybe she had finally pushed too hard. (Although the Cajun influence in her head disagreed.) Her ponderings cartwheeled between wrath at his vanishing after indisputably straining to win her affections, imaginable sorrow that she may never again experience her name poured out in that rich accented voice, and every once in a while a sense of practical safety at the end of a dangerously compelling situation. Throughout the week, Rogue quickly discerned herself compelled to pay close attention to the crooks of buildings, alleyways, anywhere Gambit might show up, almost to a frantic extent. She could not help herself, as if it was an impulse, and each time she did so without reward Gambit's chortle would resonate through her mind with a taunting, 'miss me, Cherie?'

Without fail, at one point in each day absent Gambit's presence Rogue would justify the situation to herself as if she were a girl whose boyfriend was not texting back. The initial stage was missing him, wondering if he was okay or unharmed. However, this phase faded the longer he averted her and twisted into irritation. She deemed herself played by the one man she vowed would never exploit her and her mind burned with the desire for vengeance. Again, this withered with time into the last stage: dull anger, where she endeavored to convince herself she did not and should not care about a nauseating womanizer, until she caught a glimpse of what she believed could be him and was restored with hope commencing the cycle anew. Almost willing to rationalize the real reason for this situation as what she deserved for falling again, Rogue would quickly and violently shake her head to rid herself of such a thought. After all, if she did not say it, it was not true...

Rogue's boiling blood forced her skin to sweat at words she did not even comprehend. "Gambit," the sternness in her voice matched the desperateness in his. "If you're goin' t'hoot an'holler at meh, at least make it so Ah can understand." Her undeniable southern roots shown through as much as his did. Water from the marble fountain delicately painted Rogue's backside as if to preserve her balance. One step closer to either, the cooling waters of the institute or the ferocious flames spewing from Gambit, would be her ruin. Nevertheless, she _needed_ both. "Please," she supplemented, endeavoring to govern the rampant emotions he stirred within her.

Gambit's head hung low, his mouth still muttering in French, as the clammy breeze gathered up his hair and danced with it. "Chere…" The word was low-pitched, almost a growl. "Je…toi…" His former confidence evaded him and Rogue took notice. She had half a mind to make a shrewd comment about his current and newfound dilemma, yet remained silent out of a curious respect. "You got it all wrong, belle." Gambit had an overwhelming urge to declare 'me' instead of 'it', however the truth was she knew him well, better than he cared to admit.

The passionate vigor of their cat and mouse relationship leading up to this confrontation had his head whirling and the struggle to keep his temper was only hindered by this dizziness. He began to jerk his head and the raging humid gusts of the oncoming spring appeared to mirror Gambit's ferocity as the words, "You are in here!" ripped from his throat. He beckoned furiously to his head with crazed flails of his hands, repeating, "tu es dans ici". He still grappled with the fact that she had nuzzled under his skin so profoundly without ever needing to touch it.

Rogue's curious respect ruptured in self-hatred as she bellowed, "Are y'kiddin' meh, Cajun?!" He could not help but notice the nickname usage, even though it was violently spewed. "Y'r _always_ in here! Ah cannot get y'out of mah head, and it ain't because a'your charm." (She neglected to add 'for the most part' at the end of that sentence.) The destroyingly dark emotions pertaining to her mutation began to manifest in the crooks of her emerald eyes. "Ah cannot even think without hearin' y'r voice, too." Her rant persisted through vision so hot and blurred she felt dizzied. "Do not even talk t'meh about bein' in y'r head! Everyone Ah've ever laid a'finger on is in mine. Always whisperin' t'me, tauntin' meh! Constantly remindin' meh of the sufferin' Ah've caused them that was out of mah control." Stability had abandoned Rogue's feet at this point as she freed the suffering she experienced while he confessed in waves. The sticky drafts were enough to send her tumbling back as her gloved hands caught the marble fountain with a thud.

Gambit began lunging to her aid until he perceived the peculiar contemplation in her remarkable eyes. The words that absconded from her pursed lips were nearly soft enough to be lost to the wind. "Except yours." The thought jerked her whole point of view on its head and her body compensated with a petrified, heaving chest.

As concerned as Gambit was for her, he recognized this was his only chance to reason with her while her practiced instincts to be aware of him were chaotic and disorderly. The grass crushed beneath the hem of his pants as he plunged to his knees before her frightened physique. His voice shaky and uncontrolled he panted, "Dat's because you've nev'r caused me any sufferin'!" Her eyes instantly pierced his, increasing his unsteadiness. "Rogue, you've nev'r hurt me… Y'give me a purpose. Oui, I can get by jus' fine on my own, but I don' want to anymo'!" He endeavored to take her hand, however she only further grinded her fingers into the marble attempting to process everything before she made a move. "Y'had t'know me wantin' t'join was solely fo' you. If you don' beli've me lis'en t'him," with this he beckoned to her forehead. "O' hell, touch me!" His voice and movements were becoming increasingly more sporadic and desperate as he threw off his glove and went to clutch her cheek. "Anyt'ing t'show you!" With the impending threat, Rogue's slender leg jerked out in front of her to knock Gambit out of arm's reach as she regained her fighting ground with a newfound fire.

"NO!" The gales of the day might as well had been spiraling about her as she fumed. "If y'r here f'r some huge confessional then Ah want t'hear the damn words! No easy way out. Whatever y'want meh t'know y'better choke it out." The screaming now seemed to fuel her instead of be an expenditure and Gambit would have admired that if he was not as riled up as she made him.

With such vehemence boiling at both their surfaces, Gambit found it arduous to evade his native tongue when the words meant the most. "D'accord, Chere!" the fierce shredding of the grass he laid upon could be overheard as he hurdled up to loom over her. "Je t'aime! Je suis amoureux de toi.2" His eyes devotedly opened with anticipation at her response until he realized she did not comprehend the words and commenced once more. "I love you! I am IN love wit' you." This time he did not even wait for her to respond before more confessions dripped past his unquenched lips. "I didn' wan' t'be but it's too late fo' dat," he kept a close eye on the flurry of emotions storming through hers as he spoke. "Rogue, I wanted yo'love wit'out havin' t'give a'damn t'ing in return, jus' like all d'others an' I'm sorry! But you've got t'know you've always been different, not anot'er number… even if we could touch... Beli've dat, Chere."

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_Pretty girl is suffering while he confesses everything.  
Pretty soon she'll figure out what his intentions were about._

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French Translations:

1\. Well, my god you kill me! Pretty girl, you're in here

2\. Okay, Dear! I love you. I am in love with you

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**Thanks for reading! **

**I'd love to read any reviews you'd like to leave**

**SIDE NOTE: there will be much more rated M material coming soon (possibly both in violence and sex) **

**As always, I do not own X-men**


	10. Open

**Hey Everyone**

**Happy Summer even though it's still cold here!**

**Song from last Chapter was Pretty Girl by Sugarcult**

**Hope you enjoy and R&amp;R! **

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Rogue's physical body may had been present with Gambit in that lush courtyard, however her mind had simultaneously commenced a disheartening downwards and inspiring upwards spiral all at once. She was petrified betwixt the marble and Gambit as if Medusa herself placed a scaly digit on her. Rogue ached to believe in his words despite what she knew of his soul, and the internal battle unmistakably shown on her velveteen face which was being whipped by ignored gusts of clammy air. A petite gap in Rogue's mauve painted lips strained open to divulge her soundless words to no avail.

Amorous eagerness and unadulterated horror each took their turns sweeping across Gambit's countenance in rapid, uneasy waves as he peered upon Rogue's silent breakdown at his expense as the sounds of early summer seemed to silence themselves in respect. He knew better than to reach out for her at a time akin to this and consequently resolved to simply speak to her, disclose his thoughts without the mask of riddles in order to show his words beforehand were honest.

But where to start?

"Rogue…" her name, probably a good starting point, so prominent from his sweetened lips that it appeared to splash upon the almost dewy grass about them. "Chere…" (Gambit was always more comfortable in his native tongue.) "Dis…dis last year has been impossible t'keep yo' from floodin' my mind," his words gracelessly tumbled about his usually smooth tongue. Exposing the truth, exposing _his_ truth in such a straightforward and raw way was completely novel to him. However, he reckoned if he could endure the first step maybe, just maybe she would follow and the clouds of fear looming over each of them could dissipate. His voice choked as the honking of cars zoomed by without a second thought. But, to be honest, that is not the only reason he choked. The gloss of his hellish eyes shown brighter than usual as his emotions overflowed and he blurted his genuine thoughts about uncontrolled, "Wit'out yo' an' me it's bitter!" The words shocked them both and the conviction in his voice grew as Rogue's posture softened. "I know I've tried t'take wit'out giving an' it has left so much bad blood even yo' las' bruise is because o'me!" His words were an odd combination of frantic and definite which mirrored his movements perfectly. "An' due t'dat _our_ tomorrow is unclear," Rogue slanted the side of her face towards him at the use of that pronoun, "but I'm tellin' yo' now I still want' it to b'_our_ tomorrow because wit'out you an' me d'sunshine is not dere an' d'storms won' disappear, Chere!" A discordant expression frosted Rogue's lips as she realized there never was a 'you and me' to know these declarations for sure, although that hardly derailed Gambit's soliloquy. "All d'others are not real, not sincere, not you..."

Gambit, practically kneeling in the darkening evening dew at this point with his mangled heart on display for only Rogue, gave the impression of being able to go on for years now that the flood gates had been opened as his chest heaved beneath a teal breastplate, however a curious feature molding Rogue's expression stopped him. She leaned back until the dampness of her charcoal jeans felt marble, and then took a composed seat careful not to gaze into the veracity of his eyes. "Ah can't breathe, Gambit," the sorrow in her voice was overwhelming, "there's never air _to _breathe." Her slender hand twitched its way up and down her amethyst sleeve as she cried, "Ah'm suffocating." He had no stronger urge than to dart to her side, yet that idea was met with failure. If she felt as if she was suffocating invading her personal space would only exacerbate it. Therefore, Gambit stood silently, unable to come to the aid of perhaps the only person who crawled under his skin and seeped into his consciousness.

Salty streams departed glistening caverns down Rogue's worn features before she was able to speak again. "There's no in-betweens, no breaks," she bellowed more to herself than him as if this was the first time she had physically uttered the words aloud. "Ah'm always on mah guard an' always condemned for bein' so!" Gambit could not take another moment of being helpless in this situation and ignored his instinct to stay away. He conveyed a soft 'cherie' as his hand gently swayed through the thick air in hopes of landing on her covered thigh. For the first time since he proclaimed his love, Rogue's eyes met his. Her bloodshot pools of glistening jade where overtaken by her vastly dilated pupils in a crazed effect which froze Gambit's hand in midair. "Imagine it," she whispered without breaking eye contact, "It's lahke mah nightmares cling t'meh even after the dreams leave." Her eyes dried as she refused to blink. "Imagine it!" She suddenly burst, and furiously tore Gambit's glove off and hurled his body weight at her so as to make him stumble into her with a shock. She stopped his uncovered hand millimeters from her moist cheek and screamed, "Never touchin' again." She had rightfully frightened him and was not done. Heaving his hand towards his own pants zipper she went on, "Never makin' love because y'r mutation developed before y'did!" At this, she clasped his wrist and used his own body weight to fling him into the blades of grass below. Kneeling beside him she spoke in a low, enflamed tone that swelled with each word, "Never knowin' a kiss longer than a second because that's when d'absorbin' starts!" She released his wrist with a flurry of anger and faced away from him. "Y'wan' t'talk about impossible? Try worryin' about that every second of every day of ever year." Her head abruptly slumped as her gloved hands racked through her tresses in conclusion. He was not scared of the absorption, as he had told her many times, and she never forgot because that only made him more dangerous to her.

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**Thanks for reading!**

**I REALLY appreciate reviews just to let me know what you think!**

**I will try to update as soon as possible and of course I do not own X-men**


	11. Wasted

**Happy Summer Everybody! (even though I'm over a month into mine)**

**Last chapter's song was Impossible Year by Panic! At The Disco **

**Teeny Author's Note time: (sorry guys) As the title suggests this story is really about who Rogue and Gambit _are, _not just as flirty counterparts but some nitty gritty psychology so to speak about them individually as well as together and I hope you guys are loving it as well as the characterization it contains because it really is a pleasure to write. After all, those aspects of them are a huge part of why they are my favorite couple so consequently to explore them for myself is a joy and even more rewarding when I get a comment that praises the dynamic/characterization I've written for them (I get downright giddy to be honest). Anyways, that is enough from me, thank you guys again and R&amp;R!**

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Gambit was never the only one hiding himself (although he had been baring Rogue more and more of his intimate self with each passing day it seemed whether she returned the favor or not). Each of these mutants comprehended who they truly were, no illusions of who they_ desired_ to be muddling their judgement, yet they scarcely shared such knowledge with others. Although Rogue brandished a comprehensive knowledge of his inner and outer thoughts (she may have had a slight advantage with him trapped within her mind), Gambit could not lay such a claim at her feet yet. The angst and torment from her corporeal cage was displayed clearly on her porcelain visage more often than not and was no puzzle to Gambit when he endeavored to learn her in all respects (and now even craved to), nevertheless he could under no circumstances experience it for himself which created a horribly dense wall between them when struggling to connect with her about it. Similar to the mirror Rogue held up to Gambit's soul and sins with no more than a flash of her overwhelming eyes, he too boasted his own mirror specifically for her. He teased and taunted, and sometimes genuinely pined over, a mutation she barely had emotional control over, let alone physical.

Yet, there was a glimmer. A striking sheen embraced by her emeralds of melancholy which swam upon their ivory pools; its meaning a near mystery. The luster never failed, even in her darkest hours, almost as if it was coveted and even permanent. It was one of the last pieces to Rogue's puzzle and Gambit was determined to unravel it. However, if he peered closely into his own hellish orbs he would have noticed a parallel twinkle.

It was pride.

Pride in who they were, despite the depravities of each, because in the end that was all they had and nothing screams who you are quite like a self-anointed name. Whether they were a ruse or a scoundrel, they survived their own hells without the trust of others and were gratified by it. So gratified that they _chose_ untrustworthy names as their own identities, identities which both _earned_ as their designations for their specific teams and were not simply a silly joke or clever quip. These names simultaneously hid Rogue as well as Gambit from the world while also revealing all without a need for explanation and the cherished intimacy of Rogue's own bequeathed name was what ironically escaped Gambit's analysis of her, as he was no different. It was a dark name, yes, and a dark past, yes, yet they belonged to her and molded her. (Whereas Gambit always assumed she would want to ditch both the moment she could and merely forget as he had tried to do.)

Therefore, he lay amongst the dewy emerald shards of the Institute's courtyard as the wisps of cumulus clouds sauntered past an opaque sky, comprehending the world from the perspective Rogue had placed him in. Gambit was not deterred by Rogue's scare tactic if that in fact was what it had been, but he boasted more intelligence than that. She was not endeavoring to frighten him with her mutation, indeed she herself was terrified of it in regards to him and part of him knew it. Therefore, he lolled in the lawn for quite some time taking in the picturesque scene, debating the best strategy for approaching her aimed at guaranteeing the utmost response from her, good or bad. Rogue was currently gazing at her untouchable hands and he knew expressing the sympathy he felt for her in that moment would be met with anger and opted for a, what he deemed as better, plan.

"Y'know Chere," his words drifted barely past his lips before they effortlessly floated back down and were lost to the Earth. The sudden call startled Rogue who had been lost in a world of touching and love making and simply just _feeling_ that she could never have. Without veering his eyes from the pleasing sky to even notice if he had her attention Gambit continued, "y'r words don' scare me." But _his_ words petrified her. It was almost as if he did not realize every suave, self-assured comment picked at a scab that opened when she kissed Cody and never healed. However, whether it was intentional or not, declining a straight on confrontation while he spoke such veracities put Rogue at a tremendous amount of ease. Well relatively speaking. She was quiet as usual, until he said something to set her off, processing his words and deliberating how far he would really go until he finally gave up. That thought rendered a bitter mood within her, she believed you could not love without touch therefore she was unlovable and no one chases the unlovable forever. She knew he would high tail it sooner or later and the thought left a hurt scowl in her eyes even though he was mere feet away from her now. Gambit opened his grazed mouth once more to let more declarations pour out when Rogue's figure shot from a slumped, pitiful position to standing strong with resentment, a vindictive snarl curling her upper lip. She would be bitter about his leaving sooner or later so why not skip to the unhealthy coping now? Her movements were harsh as the bones of her hips rocked the air around them as she collided shoulders with a now alert and standing Gambit before stealing his bike without a sound.

He pursued (but that was solely to retrieve his bike, right?), and discovered her angered form somewhere he had never seen her before: a bar. Rogue normally refused to let herself get drunk, she had to be in control. She could not risk getting sloppy or, heaven forbid, affectionate with someone while under the influence as she may unwittingly use her powers and hurt others. It's not that she never went out, she was just always the designated driver who would not even dare to step on to a dance floor without much less than a hazmat suit on. Nevertheless, Gambit stirred emotions in her she could not comprehend and it made her rash, impulsive, and sometimes willing to break her own silent rules. So there she sat. Perched on a steel stool that squeaked as it spun, head hung low and face hidden behind loose waves of warm auburn and cool ivory. Rogue was nursing a break-up that had not even happened yet.

Gambit's head was swimming from the lengthy run to catch up to her, Rogue's was swimming for an entirely different reason. He knew anger had driven her off, but could not have come close to guessing at what. Coming up to the lustrous seat beside her he kept his back to her while ordering, having no idea what state she would be in. The alabaster fringe that nearly dipped into her shot glass was suddenly gathered up by Rogue's gloved hand atop her head, Gambit could clearly notice the gleam of dried tears on her cheeks as she racked the hair to the opposite side it naturally fell on and with a brash voice bolstered, "Hey!" The opalescent whites of her eyes widened in shock as she did not realize her own volume, nevertheless she got Gambit's attention (the rest of the patrons paid no mind to one drunken girl at the high top). She peered into the endlessly dark eyes that met her call and Gambit remarked hers were already glazed over after maybe seven empty shot glasses accrued in front of her. Rogue wobblingly disembarked her stool and wriggled her petite figure into Gambit's, laying a finger laced in black silk on his brawny chest. Gambit was shocked when between his open legs which hung all the way to the oak floor on this stool, stood Rogue. Her hips were squared with his to the point that his belt buckle scraped the sliver of showing skin beneath her plum top as her nose swayed ever closer to his own. "You," the first word was again too loud and he could smell the whiskey on her breath, "jus' want y'r bahke back, don't ya?" Her voice was a strange mix of confidence and ire that wrecked of bad decisions. She grasped at the granite bar for some time before retrieving his bike keys she had pit-pocketed in the shoulder bump and tossing them in his face. "Well take it! An' then leave lahke y'did after Nawlins, lahke y'should've done already!" Amongst this new close contact with Rogue and the noise of music and rowdiness of other clients, Gambit was undoubtedly disordered and even more confused by her strange affirmations. He would have believed that someone desiring to be close to her despite her mutation would be refreshing and welcomed; someone who was not afraid of her. But it was never that simple.

"Rogue…" he gently gripped her shoulders before the cut off of her blouse.

She, as quickly as she could with her current response time, shrugged him off and bellowed, "Ah ain't done yet," jerking her head closer with each word as in her current state she decided that added the proper emphasis. "Y'just want in mah bed!" This statement drew some attention but such a declaration infuriated Gambit now as he saw her as so much more. He desired so much more with her, he desired _everything_ with her and to say otherwise was an insult to how deep his feelings were for her. Even he was not aware of such a fact until that precise moment.

Gambit's grip grew tighter as he snarled through clenched teeth, "I'd live d'ere if yo' would let me!" In every sense of the phrase one could possibly contemplate (not just sexual).

Whether Rogue heard him or not she continued on with her own argument against him, "Which makes no sense since y'can't even touch meh," (she said practically wrapped in him) "Y'r lyin' t'yourself, Swamp-boy," the slur in her words was almost amusing to Gambit at this point had the subject matter not been so serious, "y'can't love meh, y'can't love what y'can't touch…an' that's meh… so, so y'can't! Y'can't love meh." She whole-heartedly believed in this mentality, she had observed it her whole life and that concept destroyed a small portion of him.

"Je sais que je fais, Cherie."3 Gambit had always recognized how profoundly she squirmed beneath his skin and endeavored to avoid it or even discard it, yet he never could (successfully at least) and now those convictions he sat on for years resembled fire with an unquenchable thirst for oxygen finally being set free. Physically, they manifested as beads of sweat carving their way down his chiseled visage, humidifying the insignificant amount of air left between them.

"Really?" She bawled with a heaving, perspiring chest of her own, "Then touch meh!" Gambit's psyche had become so dominant in Rogue's mind she began to understand his French utterances. In a single, enraged motion, Gambit skillfully snaked his arm around her waist and slunk his two gloved fingers beneath her waistband to 'feel' her smooth skin as his bare pinky rested in her back pants pocket. He pressed her drunk physique against his, ready to devour her whiskey soaked lips when she pipped up, "Ah can't!" Her voice snapped him out of his animal-like vigor and the hunger slowly dissipated from his eyes, however their physical positions remained unchanged. The pain was worth it to him, however he could not put her through that kind of strain, both physical and mental.

Gambit's eyes were hardened on the outside, yet without warning melting where the crimson merged with his inky pupils, his voice nearly choked as he spoke again, "Maybe d'ere's more to it d'en, yeah?" (There already was for him.) "Mo' d'en d'physical… an' I never knew d'at, never experienced d'at until you, mah Cherie. Perhaps…" He loosened his grip and she remained steadfast. "We discover it toget'er, no?" It almost sounded like a question, like an invitation.

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**3\. I know I do, Dear**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men**


	12. And

**Good Morning or Afternoon or Night to All You Lovely People!**

**Last chapter's song was 'Show Me Your Fangs' by Matt Nathanson**

**R&amp;R :)**

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Stained luminosity pierced her emerald eyes akin to daggers as Rogue's mascara-coated eyelashes fluttered awake. The light almost appeared caramel in color as blurred hues superseded her true surroundings. Not that she would have recognized them anyways. The pain commenced immediately, her nauseous stomach hurled tidal waves of acid into the back of her throat as her temples reverberated in the echoed agony of any sound that dared be made which at the moment happened to be cheaply painted jerry beads in a flurry of deep amethysts and golds. There was a familiarity in the maroon bricks and ivory sheets she could distinguish through her splitting headache, as well as a… a smell? Rogue emitted an uncensored, full-hearted groan when she discovered its origin: a certain Cajun that adorned a peculiar twist of both assertiveness and great unease swimming through his devilish eyes and jesting at his furrowed brow. He sloshed an electric blue liquid in her direction with the intention of replenishing her electrolytes even a miniscule amount, however this only succeeded in ripping another childlike whine from her queasy throat.

"Boisson4."

Rogue's head throbbed far too much to unearth what trivial part of it could maybe translate Gambit's words (although it did not require a French degree to understand). Her stomach writhed within her and she wrapped her arms furiously around her waist in an attempt to calm it. For quite some time, the pain reduced her to the behavior of a sick child: whining, refusing medicine, ignorant, and miserable. Gambit was ill-prepared to say the least.

"Boire, s'il vous plaît."

His accented purr only seemed to compel Rogue's stomach into a worse state as everything tightened and twitched, especially the delicate skin about her eyes. She clawed at the plush bedspread with such might that Gambit could have sworn the gold embellishments were beginning to unravel and ornament her hands instead. Curling into the fetal position, infantile whimpers escaped her newly acidic mouth until she detected a position which numbed the pain if only for a moment. Rogue had rested in and then altered stances four times before she felt well enough to distract herself from this superficially never-ending pain with conversation (besides she had a few questions).

Without attempting to even open her eyes, let alone turn her piercing head to face Gambit, Rogue spoke in good faith that he would still be next to her. "This y'r plahce, ain't it?" The words sounded more akin to an annoyed moan than a conversation starter yet he nodded, still trying to force nutrients on her. She knew the answer already without requiring the nod. "Should'a known by the ash trays." A sharp cutting pain suddenly penetrated the back of Rogue's head and she whipped herself into the burgundy leather of the couch cushions. Her taught top exposed the smooth porcelain of her bare back as it rode up following her willowy hands in an attempt to cease the agony. The velvety skin plucked over surprisingly strong muscles all the while maintaining its gorgeous evenness. Any exposed skin was a desirable view for Gambit when it came to her, no matter where, but the back seemed more intimate than not. Not only was it a tempting highway to more commonly private places, a bare back was almost always associated with the sensual part of being with a naked woman, to watch her walk around afterwards due to a level of comfort with one another that only followed a true loving connection and being able to admire the sways and arches of it as she did so. Gambit tried hard not to stare this time (he learned his lesson on her balcony), especially now that she was awake and partially aware. It was not that Gambit's last words at the bar had been disingenuous, however that by no means meant the physical want had disappeared and gazing at an unconscious Rogue whimper and moan all night as her body lazed about to discover its most comfortable position (which happened to be a nimbly crooked wrist resting atop swelling breasts) forced Gambit to excuse himself to his bathroom several times over.

"T'ought y'might not b'feeling d'best aft'a las' night," his voice rang out as he twiddled the refused Gatorade bottle between his skilled fingers. He had been hungover enough times to realize its potential, even if she had not yet.

Rogue's emerald eyes blazed as she twisted over sheets to face Gambit, however the worry in them seemed to be stronger than the ire which perhaps frightened him most of all. "Did y'get meh drunk?" An exasperated wheeze from the pounding in her head interrupted her thoughts, "Ah don' drink!" Realizing Rogue had gone black out, Gambit had the opportunity to change her past right then and there, to replace it with his own fairytales and fantasies about how she wanted him and publicly displayed such a corporeal desire after a few shots, but then again didn't she? Maybe? He still was not completely sure on that one. The pause in his speech only deepened Rogue's anxiety about a night she could not remember. "Gambit, Ah feel sick, jus' say something," she began to plead, however he was lost in the memory of her so close to him the night before without any form of shying away or fidgeting.

Eventually he was able to sullenly chime out, "You got yourself drunk, chere." His demonic eyes still glazed over. "An'…" he contemplated whether to continue recalling the night as horror percolated through her ashen skin in the form of goosebumps, "An got real close…" His knees dropped to the hardwood floor and, as best he could, he squared his hips with Rogue's as she had done without breaking eye contact. "D'is close, I do believe." They could feel each other's breath in all its nervousness. "You revoked mon couer5 yet again, told me t'leave d'en t'touch you, d'en d'at y'couldn'…" Rogue's respiring only progressed to a choppier state with each word that dripped off Gambit's tongue; she vaguely remembered his last declarations to her and the newfound intimacy he was implying was not yet welcomed. Her head slumped into the humid space between them and the close proximity allowed Gambit to nuzzle his pointed nose into her auburn curls if he so desired to. Rogue's bare shoulders began to pulse rhythmically to her ever louder sobbing and soon the heaving of her chest joined in as well, confining and releasing gasps of air restrained beneath violet cloth. Permitting her this emotional upheaval, Gambit ever so slightly leaned his broad torso towards the girl of his dreams and tapped her shaking forehead to the cotton shirt covering his robust chest, endeavoring to bequeath her a steady foundation on which to cry. However, the sudden touch, even with clothing, paralyzed Rogue. Clear droplets continued to flow from the crooks of her now unblinking, red eyes as her slack jaw grew tighter.

"Ah'm sad, Gambit," it was almost as if she whispered without ever moving her mouth, as if she were a beautifully intricate stone statue he had tricked himself into thinking was alive. The creased lines of his rugged forehead conveyed confusion at her quiet words. "Y'walk 'round an' act lahke Ah can touch but Ah can't. Y'treat meh lahke Ah'm no different but Ah am! Don' y'eva again act lahke it is mah choice not t'kiss y'senseless or that Ah chose t'cover up," her southern drawl intensified with her emotions. "Do y'have any idea what it's lahke _not_ t'feel? Ah want to so bad it kills meh. But Ah don' an Ah won' t'protect others, not t'mention the teeny bit a'mah head that is still mahne." Her statuesque demeanor never faltered as they were barely far enough apart to breathe in their own air. Only her steady eyes watered more and more. "Can y'imagine how it feels t'experience someone's last thought so strongly y'think it's y'r own? An' it's always the same. Always fear. Now that's all that resonates in mah mahnd, is the fear Ah cause, how scary Ah really am t'these people, t'myself…" Her stiff head almost waivered, "An' it's all jus' 'cause of mah skin." Her tears created oceans upon her porcelain chest and she finally broke. The smudged mauve lipstick that rested upon now cracked lips shivered violently as they trembled and parted to consent a whimper of true anguish, that caused Gambit physical pain to perceive, to be ripped from her. "An' Ah've known the truth mah whole lahfe, that y'can't love lahke this," he tried to protest but was hushed before he could even squeak out a syllable, "an' Ah'm sad, Ah'm so sad fo' all the tahme y'have an' are goin' t'waste on meh, Remy." There it was. His name. The first time she had bequeathed it back to him in almost half a year. The rest of her sentence fell mute to him and he began to beam. Rogue identified him as Remy again, and everything that came with it. The charming, troubled, maddening Remy as his true self, of course he was still Gambit as well, but she knew more, knew so well in fact that she had the privilege of bestowing such a title. A crooked smile could not help but tug at his lips which, to Rogue, seemed wildly inappropriate or possibly even insulting in the current situation. "An' you!" She suddenly exclaimed hoping the shock would instill a more appropriate mood in him, "Y'live in a'warld where y'don' listen or y'jus' don'care!" That snapped the smile right off his face as she was one of the only aspects of his life he truly did care about. "An' y'jus do whateva' y'want wit' meh and it hurts us both!" His chest heavier than it had ever been, he wondered how long his actions had been adding to the bottled up emotions Rogue was now outpouring. "This ain't fair, Remy," his name… again. A contrasting flurry of devastating sorrow and overwhelming bliss almost wrenched his heart in two as he noticed the harsh edges of her face almost soften and her dried out eyes, which had no more tears to shed, gaze into his, "The love y'say y'have fa' meh it jus' ain' fair." A genuine depression overtook her as it chased out all other visible emotions and the scene just about made Gambit ill, he could not bear such a thought and it was even worse to witness. Rogue's walls were shattered and little could he have guessed that such sorrow would erupt from behind them. His chest ached as her tears fell silent and unabridged once more, only the faint noises of the outside world could be heard.

"Mon couer," he whispered, absorbing just one of the never-ending tears from her moist features into the fabric of his glove. Then another, then another, until each shielded finger seized a single moment of sadness. "It's still worth it, no?" He gracefully transferred the salty droplets to his plump lips, letting the skin drag a bit with each passing swipe. A part of him knew a sexual act was in bad taste right now, but a larger part yearned to see her pupils dilate in the excitement he wished to one day share. The consoling gesture still stood on its own merit, yet her taste… even her weeping boasted a certain lusciousness to him that he attempted not to get lost in at the moment.

"Mah heart y'call meh," she mocked, yet not in a malicious tone. A derisive snort huffed past her nose as she almost smiled in her misery, "Y'r heart is in'a plahce Ah can't be." The veracity of her own physical limitations were seeping into her very bones and chilling them. She felt as if another tear fell it would crystallize on impact. Whereas Gambit was always hot, he radiated passion and warmth and Rogue desired nothing more than to melt into him. However, the truth of the matter was there would be very little melting unless she wanted to cuddle an unconscious body.

"Yo' wrong, Chere." The words shook her from the grip of an internal cold and back to the russet, Mardi Gras masked walls of Gambit's apartment. "Mon couer," he lightly stroked the place on his chest where his heart lay beating underneath, "it's sittin' on a silver platter jus' fo' you." He had never uttered such words before, then again he had never felt such emotions before.

She was always taken aback by his bold statements. Couldn't she be like that? No, simple answer. Such claims were rash and dangerous and impulsive and exciting and passionate… wait… That was not where that was meant to go. Impulsive emotions led to impulsive actions which, for herself, were heavily guarded, yet she could uncontrollably feel her safeguards slipping with him. Getting drunk was impulsive and now look where she was: wrapped in a plush, sweat-stained comforter that smelled of coriander and cumin. How would she leave? Would it be awkward? Angry?... Friendly? The pain she had propelled to the back of her mind sharply returned with the onslaught of thoughts tearing her attentions every which way. It was clear Gambit had a single focus, but she was just the opposite right now and the metaphor he uttered suddenly clicked as she blurted out, "An' Ah can neva' pick it up without drainin' it." Her eyes seethed in his direction. "So tell meh how Ah'm wrong, Cajun? Do it! Y'love ain't the only one on the lahne." Her gloved hand clapped over her lavender lips as the crimson in his eyes nearly sparkled from her unintentional words. "Ah…" she mumbled, but the words lingered on the still air akin to the deafening sound of thunder that leaves silence in its wake. She could not retract them. "Rem…" The affectionate gaze he had glued to her was unnerving to say the least. However, all he could be bothered to think about was how her almost unwavering disdain for him also encompassed love in her own way. "Jus'…" she stumbled over herself in more ways than one. "Jus' lis'en t'meh fa'once," Rogue's awkward seriousness was palpable, "this ain' a lahfe y'wan'a be trapped in." The gleam upon her emerald eyes could have been described as caring, not necessarily loving, but caring. Gambit had always recognized her suffering, yet never distinguished it for himself until now. It was as if her eyes relayed the torment of over twenty years characterized by internal constraints directly into his, and he truly _felt_ it, so much so he was taken aback by the raw sensations flowing from her without a single word. Rogue, still bearing her silky gloves, gently tipped his chiseled chin up to perceive the hurricane of emotions wash over his strong features. "Ah'm tryin' t'set y'free…" Surrendering herself was perhaps harder for Rogue than any other as it implied a slew of other connotations. Yet Gambit made the idea so appetizing at times and at others reminded her why she never had before. The former overtook the latter in this instance, even though she kept endeavoring to do just as she said, for his peace of mind if nothing else. "…free t'live ya' own lahfe."

"Don' yo' see girl?" He leapt upon his couch next to her. Heart pounding. Eyes lively and arduous hands disarrayed within his very own sheets in an attempt to hold his beloved with a safe boundary in-between. The shock had little time to even register among her face before his breathy words encapsulated her. "Wit'out you I don't have a life anymo'." And with that statement Gambit lost his own game and Rogue had won a game she declined to play.

But did that not make them both winners?

Regardless of the thoughts rampaging her mind, Rogue never ceased to wriggle beneath his endeavored touch until now, at that moment she realized, no matter the circumstances, _they would die together_ for the reason that she could never admit aloud: his sentiments were shared. She fashioned no audible response to his words, only a mere gloved hand, whose willowy fingers slunk their way betwixt his. The world fell mute around them as a single, burning tear blurred each of their collective visions. Was this the end? The beginning? As Rogue examined the hopeful man in front of her one overwhelming thought surged to the forefront of her consciousness. Touch. Physical, carnal touch.

While inebriated such ideas had seemed wonderful and even attainable as if she had no idea why it had taken her so long to execute them in the first place. If only she could stay in that state. "Ah was floatin' that nahght, Remy." The words seemed foreign to the intimate scene they had created. It could had been hours between his declaration and hers, or mere minutes, time had no power there. "…on air. An' Ah wish Ah could keep floatin' forever… free…" Her guard had been lower that night, not down, but lower and it helped her realize how tremendously tired of always being on her guard she truly was. At first, Rogue searched for validation of such a damaging idea in his virile, devoted face but discovering none she turned her attention skyward. The sun had long since taken up slumber for the night and now she stared longingly at the inky sky for liberation. "Floatin' on air," she whispered, nevertheless allowing Gambit to retain her hand the whole time.

"Chérie, si vous voulez flotter dans l'air alors vos pieds ne touchera plus jamais le sol."6 The beauty of such prose resounded, both audibly and significantly. They resounded in eloquent dances about the burnt burgundy of their current abode and landed with poise within Rogue's ears. The words flowed as dark chocolate, rich and silky, and everything about them was just exquisite. She was almost too caught up in their loveliness to translate them before they were put into action. Rogue's sickly physique was abruptly thrust into the musty air and landed on Gambit's broad chest with a thud that appeared to have no effect on him while her bare feet, which Gambit must have precariously stripped when he brought her home, gamboled about in circles as he spun their conjoined form. The ripped, ebony jeans hugging Rogue's calves rubbed against the underside of Gambit's elbow as her legs draped over his arm in a classic bridal style lift. He swung them round and round in what commenced as intense romance until a giggle could be discerned from the young woman's throat that mirrored his own contained one. The joy pervading the room left a bittersweet lingering in its mist as Rogue's murmurs became brasher and wilder. "Wai— Rem—Ah—" But it was too late. Rogue barrel rolled out of Gambit's sturdy arms, landing on all fours she curled her spine upwards as she heaved bile on to the hardwood floors. Enjoying herself or not, she was still hungover and Gambit could not help but chuckle as she cried out 'why!' in a melodramatic voice in between dry heaves for the next hour or so.

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**Hope you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it!**

**French Translations (I got them from google therefore I am terribly sorry if they are incorrect):**

**4\. Drink**

**5\. My heart**

**6\. Darling, if you want to float on air then your feet will never again touch the ground**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-men**


	13. Iridescence

**Happy Fall! The best holiday ever will soon be upon us! Halloween!**

**Last chapter's song was "Sick and tired" by Anastacia**

**Hope everyone is having a wonderful life and please R&amp;R!**

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The piercing scent of orange zest assaulted Rogue's sensitive nostrils as she awoke smothered in the same ivory sheets as the night before. The groan that begged escaping from her sore throat was swiftly exchanged with a sneer at the sharp aroma. She perceived Gambit swaying along to heavily trumpeted jazz music as he mopped the cherry oak below, the scene was almost cute to Rogue in a way. All he required was an apron that said 'Kiss the Cajun' and he would be all set. She was content to watch the domestic man before her until he realized her mesmerizing eyes were no longer shut in slumber… a revelation which did not take any time at all due to the fact that he periodically gazed over at her. However, when his fiendish eyes were met with her bright ones instead of a calmed, sleeping visage the affectionate stare he bequeathed to her unconscious form shied away from his harsh features. Yet its intentions were resoundingly clear; a slight flush in his cheeks, gleam in his eyes, crook in his mouth that refused to fade. Rogue allowed herself to study such features as she never had before. To be the cause of such obvious elation was novel to her and brought a blush to her cheeks she had not yet experienced.

Rogue was accustomed to colorlessness. Her cool, untouched skin rarely exposed itself long enough to ever achieve a sun-kissed tan as it were. Nevertheless, it was anything but weak or brittle. Smooth to the touch, yes, however thickened by years of battle scars and bruises hidden beneath a spectrum of dark hues expressed in tight cloth and dense pigments which extenuated her almost translucent, porcelain skin in a mysteriously beautiful way. The contrast had often bestowed a love-hate relationship within Rogue that she reckoned would no longer be an issue as her usually matte surface was now subtly shining under a hint of nervous sweat and an increasingly rosy tint. Neither were aware of how to proceed in their current situation as each mutant invoked such new sensations in the other.

Gambit illuminated her every color, and she was no stranger to his. The burn of his ethereal eyes was only one enticement in his spectrum of trickeries. The most petrifying, however, was the lustrous silver that threatened to drip off his tongue every time he opened his ravenous mouth. But it went deeper than that. It was almost as if his lungs were coated in a beautifully lethal cloud of silver dust that seeped its way out in noxious puffs. Akin to a knock-out gas perhaps, except what was knocked out was the other person's senses, especially that of dignity.

"Uh…" Her disheveled appearance matched that of her muddled thoughts. "Mahnd if Ah shower, Swamp Rat?" Her breath brandished the sting of acid she felt throughout her throat as she wiped at the remnants of mauve lipstick that had journeyed to her left cheek and clutched at the plum fabric glued to her side with sweat. There was a deep magnetism between the two that had been internalized and spurned for many years and now it parched the air. "Please?" Gambit's eyes were fixated however, not on the smeared makeup or unwashed clothes, but on the rose hue highlighting the apples of Rogue's creamy cheeks. The blush was not one of embarrassment but rather affinity. Her ceramic skin smoldered beneath his gaze as she waited cumbersomely for an answer.

"Neva' could say no to'a lady," he gestured towards his marble bathroom with a hidden sinister smirk. (The term hidden used loosely as it practically beamed off his face.) Rogue chose to ignore it as her hygiene mattered more to her than whatever sexual thoughts were running through his head. Gambit led the way, as only a gentleman could, as he jutted a crooked arm into the dense air hoping Rogue would snake her nimble fingers in it. As he barely felt her silk gloves caress his forearm, his silver tongue leapt ahead of his swelled brain, "O'course seein' as how y'r not feelin' a'hundred percent, an' could pass out at any moment, I sho' probably join yo'…fo' safety." Her sprightly fingers suddenly clamped down on his muscled skin with such force Gambit could feel a twinge of pain from her concealed fingernails. "Well," he quipped, swallowing the pain, "didn' know you'd like d'idea d'at much, chere." Even the whites of her appeared to have shivered in apprehension as her body froze. "Chere?"

Rogue embodied an overwhelming sensation, the only problem was she could not discern if it deemed positive or negative qualities. Gambit's flirting, however off-putting and inappropriate, always crawled beneath for skin for hours afterwards, however now? Now she was hopelessly lost for a response as her endeavor to bare her own intimacy came in strides and right now was not one of them. She resorted to banter, "Yeah, an' Ah hear hospital food is getting' better ev'ry year if y'r so hell bent on goin'."

The worry faded from Gambit's battle-worn face and was replaced with a snigger, "Ahhh, who don' love a good puddin' cup?"

"Blame fools, that's who!" Was she enjoying herself? The change of pace flaunted a gleam in emerald eyes she had forgotten since the beginning of their encounter on her balcony some time ago. Such a picturesque shine did not go ignored by Gambit. "So that shower?"

"Course cherie, I'll light some candles, play some music, pour my best champagne…"

"Die painfully…" She chimed in with a mirrored tone as she ambled past him to the ivory tub. Gambit embodied no hesitation as he followed, excited for any of the scenarios in his head to become reality.

The bathroom was of course no departure from the rest of the maroon apartment, with gold embellishments and stunningly clean ivory appliances. The shower curtain was noisy with a scene from the French Quarter upon it as the classic 'Bourbon' street sign hung on the adjacent wall. Rogue took a second to survey the toiletries and noticed a lack of them. Only a tried and true toothbrush adorned the gold-flecked granite countertop and an Old Spice deodorant stick. She guessed Gambit really held the bachelor life in high regard. She did not suppose she would find anything less than a three in one body/hair wash in the shower too. Rogue pivoted on her heels into an eager Remy and jested, "Guess next tahme y'take meh home against mah will Ah'll have t'remember t'bring mah own conditioner, huh?" He shrugged, the women he brought home usually didn't stay for a shower. In fact, most did not even stay the night. "Y'at least got an extra towel?" His head jerked form its stupor as he had been reliving all his previous guests. Opening a deep onyx cabinet, the contrast of electric blue pierced Rogue's eyes as he handed over the plush fabric. Rogue turned her back as she dropped a strap down her supple shoulder and waited. "Well…" Her face twisted just enough for Gambit to catch the flush in her cheeks. "Get out a'here, Gambit." He bowed low, with an arm flowing gracefully into the humid air then just barely backed into the hallway with no intention of straying any further. Rogue shrugged her shoulders in a 'good enough' fashion then playfully slammed the door, paying attention to bang his nose in the process.

Rogue had barely tucked the oceanic towel in on itself beneath her arm when she realized her knowledge of a shower with seemingly thousands of knobs was severely lacking. With unadulterated reluctance and several quiet curses, Rogue jarred the door open and piped through a diminutive, "How in the heck do y'work this thahng?" With only a sliver of light escaping from the bathroom, she hid herself behind the door. Gambit, who had propped himself against the maroon wall in preparation for a long wait, stretched perhaps a bit too extensively upon returning to an upright position. While Rogue peeped her head about the small opening, the carpet she stood upon slipped beneath her and the door swung open as she fell onto the floor with an embarrassing thud. Releasing an exasperated grunt, Rogue gamboled back to her feet and refused to meet Gambit's gaze with her own. However, he only noticed the dangerous and tempting towel begging to be ripped off as it swayed in waves about her thighs. She encompassed the ocean within her arms, deadly and beautiful. And raw. He scrutinized every inch, every crevice and unearthed no flaws.

"It's Anna!" she blurted out. As if the idea had been building and building and finally erupted. They shared a puzzled look. The words cascaded from her lips with a flurry of emotions: trepidation, endearment, uncertainty, and, akin to hope in Pandora's Box, conviction. Refusing the intimacy of physical touch, Rogue desired to divulge an even more delicate secret, not as a tradeoff but as a genuine longing for him to have such private knowledge. Timidly tucking her alabaster tresses behind her porcelain ear and straightening her curved back, she confirmed, "Anna Marie."

Remy's mouth, usually honeyed with his signature smirk, was agape. Stupefied, he could do little more than stare at the scantily-clad woman posed in the entry way of his bathroom. His usual charm had fled him for almost five solid minutes before he graciously snatched her bare hand and pressed a kiss to the top of his own gloved thumb, confessing, "I've waited m'whole life t'meet yo', Anna Marie." Rogue never realized the power of her name until she sensed it uttered from his lips, how ardent breath pirouetted amid her naked fingers with every syllable. Shivers darted up and down her spine. Each paused, neither knew how to nor desired to move on from this moment.

Rogue suddenly seized the covered wrist of the hand lightly showering hers with careful affection. She began this confrontation awkwardly but she would be damned if that is how she finished it. Yanking the man's broad body into hers, she_ very nearly_ pressed her tender lips to his rigid ear and whispered, "An' ya' are n'ver t'use it, Swamp Rat." With a dark chuckle, that almost mirrored his, she withdrew contact and sauntered away, cobalt towel swinging about her hips, proud of herself for charming the charmer. Gambit, on the other hand, could hardly move, let alone think. He mentally kicked himself for not taking advantage of the scenario to snake his captured hand around her petite waist and dip her with a languid, entrancing stare into the emeralds she harbored in her eyes. Another mental kick: only this one came by means of a snicker, Rogue was the first and only woman ever to stupefy _him_. She had the moment he caught a glimpse of her in their very first battle. Ever since then, he toiled day and night not to let it manifest on his face or in his body.

Today he failed.

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**Disclaimer: I do not own X-men**


	14. Shuffled

**Hey Everybody !**  
**I hope this type of chapter has been long awaited and you enjoy it thoroughly**

**Last chapter's song was Spectrum by Florence + The Machines**

**R&amp;R :)**

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Gambit breathed in the steam seeping from beneath the mahogany entrance of his restroom. Eyes closed in elation, he devoured the taste Rogue had left on the air as a low growl reverberated in his throat. Even without her sense of sight, it was no secret to Rogue this was happening. She'd have even blushed if someone insinuated the extreme heat of her shower was purposeful to create such a fog. Nevertheless, her actions were slowed, her head raced with the responsibilities of what she had done to be where she currently was. Nimble, scarred hands gripped the ivory granite as her drenched tresses mangled into her slung head. Was confessing her name truly that daunting? And how had he really reacted? Although, fact of the matter was, it was near impossible for her to strip away his charm and unearth that answer, even in a hypothetical. Her world, akin to his apartment, was in a haze.

Gambit, however, was not confused in the slightest and as his senses tingled and desire grew he surrendered to the urge to avidly seek her out. The auburn door creaked ever so slightly to allow less than an inch of viewing capability, but that was enough. His rigid jaw went limp as he followed her creamy, pearled legs to the graceful curves of her posterior. After all, soaked towels clung much more tightly to skin than dry ones. Rogue's spine was suddenly set ablaze with the introduction of hungry eyes surveying it, shivers leaped and galloped throughout her body as she felt the need to be angry, for protection's sake, yet was finally enjoying the attentiveness to her every inch. She caught the fire in his eyes with her own by means of the mirror and followed the features of his face as they warped into almost bashfulness, but really, that was not his style. Consequently, he owned his actions with a confident swing of the door and purr into her ear. The sensation of rough, low-slung jeans scratching and grinding against her sent a shock which was clearly visible in her eyes. Bathed in golden light as the rose hue returned to Rogue's cheeks, the words he crooned did not matter at that point. Her legs had simultaneously forfeited all reflex and responsiveness to leave her trapped in a half standing, half supported by Gambit's impressive torso stance. Praying her arms had not followed suit, Rogue propped upon them and twisted her entire, dripping figure to perch ever so flirty on the gold-flecked countertops, endeavoring not to reveal how unstrung she truly was. "One more wahrd an' y'won't survahve, Cajun." Not like she had even heard a single word thus far. As a devilish smirk danced about Remy's lips, he knew the opposite was true, that _she_ was the one that would not survive. Her trick was clever, but not clever enough, he noticed how weak in the knees she became and had half a mind to exploit such a fact.

Leaning in to stifle her phony confidence, Gambit allowed the tension to mount as his movements were painfully slow. The magnetism between them suffocated the air as his bare hand caressed the damp fabric above Rogue's defined hips. He could have sworn the tiniest of squeaks came from her naked lips and it crooked his mouth further into an intimidating grin. Her exposed arms were uncouthly splayed about the stiff air in a reflex to the intimacy. In an attempt to recover her charisma and to her own shock as well as his, Rogue decided the best resting place for her willowy arms would be neighboring the soft cotton of Gambit's plum V-neck. She did not expect to find his abrasive, scarred muscles raising his tanned skin beneath the gentle fabric and her hands involuntarily began to trace them, wondering about the story behind each. He raised a bushy eyebrow at her, watching her striking eyes loll into a stupor as the elevation in both their heartbeats was unmistakable to the other, deafening even. The noise of his bare foot approaching the countertop rivalled that of the bustling French Quarter amidst this austerity as he locked eyes with Rogue. She was clearly rattled as her breath hitched, by her own involvement in this tryst most of all. "Cherie, I ain't scared," Gambit's face curled upwards as his scruff scraped the supple skin preceding her ear, all together nullifying Rogue's breath for good, "steal me."

He withdrew, only slightly, to perceive the jade of her eyes trembling upon their now watery ivory backdrops as she managed to joke in an almost inaudible rasp, "A thief f'r a thief, eh?" Gambit's intestines mangled into knots for what seemed to be the first time in his suave life, the ache piercing his chest had never been so profound as he wanted nothing more than to comfort her, both with loving and lustful gestures. The words circling his hazy mind were never meant to escape their luscious prison in such a clichéd way, but as he peered into her absent eyes, fingers twitching in anticipation, he could not discern whether anything within his head was a mere thought or said aloud at this point.

"I will soothe yo' pain, Chere," he blurted into her countenance. Smooth. Real smooth. Here he had the most beautifully toxic woman perched on a golden pedestal just for him and that is what tumbles out of his mouth.

Rogue's skin seemed to shiver with the palpable friction that was between them as the small of her back stiffened. "But…" she gazed away from him in disgrace, "Ah won't soothe y'rs, Ah'll add t'it. Already have… Ah've added t'y'r pain an' put y'r bahdy through an immense amount a'strain. And…and… y'r a'fool if y'think that'll stahp, Remy." Her loathing words only succeeded in feeding the flame he held for her as she realized the expression in his eyes did not, _would not_ diminish…His eyes. His wickedly captivating eyes. They revealed so much in their dark beauty, Gambit may have had one of the best poker faces in the country but even it still could not mask the veracities that poured out of those vermillion halos. They succeeded in conquering her thoughts at night more often than Rogue would care to admit, the gleam of lit malevolence trembling on a raven background. She deemed that the contradictory emotional yet soulless qualities they possessed would weaken her knees until the day she died and she also reckoned they could easily fell any foe with a simple, hellish gaze.

Gambit knew as he peered upon Rogue's tranced features that if he endeavored to cup her vivacious face, adding intensity to the kiss he yearned to gift upon her, he would crash upon the linoleum tiles before his lips ever reached hers, and therefore reluctantly opted out of such an option. Closing the remaining gap between them by grinding his hips into the edge of the countertop, forcing her slender legs open to accommodate him, Gambit allowed the fire in his eyes to devour her. Her hair, still wet, clung to the soft curves of a bare neck in which he could almost perceive the blood pumping in her nervousness. Such a breathless site led to barely covered, milky mounds of perfectly sprightly flesh, imposing a lump in his throat that could only be remedied with an audible gulp. (The other would be considerably harder to get rid of in comparison.) Sure, Rogue had never hidden her figure, what with her sheer tops and all, yet this state of undress was overwhelming to say the least. "I don't want it to," he finally answered.

Gambit did not think it possible for Rogue's onyx orbs to eclipse her rings of emerald any more than they already had, yet his last sentiment proved that thought wrong as her anxious energy compelled his hairs to stand on edge. She had willingly taken his hand once before, and he knew he wished for too much by wanting her to take his mouth as well and realized he would have to. As gilded luminosity stung their sensitive eyes, Rogue's body stiffened with tension as her head involuntarily swayed towards Gambit who could not control himself any longer and suddenly crashed his tattered lips upon hers, heaving a shocked screech from her throat as he inhaled as much of her as he could before the inevitable blackout. Just as quickly as brawny hands grasped her shielded sides in ecstasy did they fall limp. Gambit could not distinguish if his heart was being ripped from its chest in utter love or painful absorption but the two went hand-in-hand in this case and he did not care. Endeavoring to help himself was useless, he simply could not leave the velvety skin taut across her curved lips untouched any longer. Mere seconds before he contemplated that such a kiss would be his ace to play, but little did he realize, it was hers.

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing as usual**


	15. Burnt

**Hey Everybody, hope your holiday season is going well!**

**Last chapter's song was Eyes on Fire by Blue Foundation**

**Just a warning, this chapter may be uncomfortable to read but that's the whole idea and if you don't remember this happening reread the first chapter **

**Enjoy! R&amp;R!**

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_'__Bridget? Who is Bridget? Or is it Brandi? Mah gawd, why is there blood?'_

The mental bombardment of Gambit's raging thoughts and emotions sent Rogue's mind into a tailspin. She gripped it with a yelp, suddenly pained by the light above, as she was compelled to plummet backwards into the corner of a grandly embellished mirror. Slamming upon the golden countertop, Rogue was overcome by Gambit's powerfully unresolved memories. Her voice, barely a raspy whisper, never escaped the confines of her throat as she called for help before feeling her eyes roll to the back of her head. All strength absconded from her wounded physique as her bare body went limp.

Sluggishly, she blinked opened to a hazy, heart pumping scene with malice so deeply imbedded in her veins Rogue could lick the excess off her supple lips if she so desired. A gorgeous woman greeted her with tousled flaxen locks and a barely-there lingerie set drenched in a hot pink noticeable from the next county. Rogue scoured at her with disdain for some reason as she—no, he wanted to hurt her… he deserved the pain yet desired to inflict it upon another. Brandi was trash, unworthy of trust, damaging to the only one she wanted… she deserved this— Rogue's head was a jumble of disordered, enraged thoughts as she threw the woman down and climbed on top, a sudden need for release surging through her, as if it would solve all her problems, as if it would validate herself. As Rogue's slender hand involuntarily slid up the woman's throat, backed by her now shifted weight to keep Bridget (maybe?) in place for the violent thrusting that had commenced, panic gripped Rogue. Her nerves prickled and plucked as she endeavored to rip herself from the situation as foreign thoughts continued to flood her mind. _'Jus' give in t'd'lust, homme,'_ Rogue's hips dug deeper as vermillion pearls began to escape the woman's abdomen, she physically could not keep her hands to herself_, 'y'r not'a man d'at deserves d'femme's trust anyways.'_ At some point, Britney (that might be it) began to scream. Rogue's own revulsion coupled with Gambit's self-loathing was enough to blur her vision with saline tears as she attempted to shut out the scene. The stained porcelain skin about her eyes twitched as she forced them to remain closed but to no avail, the horrendous scene was there too, playing behind her eyes as well as in front. With no other option, Rogue resorted to screaming, for help, for an end, as an apology, anything but there was no escape. _'Rogue already resent yo','_ the words resounding through her head gave her anguish pause for only a second, _'yo' a fool tryin' to join her.'_

This… was about her.

Rogue's chest ached as she discovered the truth behind the self-hatred pouring into her. Sickened shrieks reverberated from her throat in never-ending waves as she was forced to relive his sins. His morality was slipping into the darkness, and in consequence so was her own, yet she lamented in the guilt of knowing her acceptance of him could have prevented this, a fact which only cut deeper crevices into her cheeks by means of blistering sobs. Her nimble hands began to shred hair from the blonde's scalp as Rogue relentlessly cried out for it stop. The effort appeared to be in vain, she was forced to live the memory to completion. Hot tears continued to well in the corners of Rogue's emerald eyes and blaze painful trails down her quivering cheeks as she watched the woman's striking features meld with her own. She saw as he saw, she thought as he thought. Her chest swelled with self-contempt that did not belong to her as she vomited on to the alabaster linoleum of Gambit's bathroom, the echo of her cries filling the small room. Unable to believe what she was experiencing as her hand began to strike the howling woman uncontrolled, Rogue continued dry heaving whatever bile was left in her system. Eventually, she felt the uncomfortable burn of a ghost appendage as the crippling terror of Gambit's realization crept into her bones and iced her veins, this was the nail in his coffin. The dread that bombarded Rogue did not belong solely to Gambit anymore or to her for that matter, but both. Their combined intensities compelled her shrill physique in on its self as Rogue collapsed and clutched at her trembling knees. The vision was over.

Yet, her spirit lay shattered about her in pieces sharp enough to slit a throat. She awoke to discover herself so far in the dark the dawn appeared to be nothing more than a fable. "Chere," Rogue's voice shook in rhythm with the rest of her body, "chere— Ah hate myself fo' what Ah've done." Her accent was an odd combination of them both as her words revealed his past truths completely unfiltered. "Ah'm sorry Rogue, Ah have no defense." Her body rocked as she no longer fought against his psyche's influence.

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing **


	16. Disguised

**Hey Everybody, hope the cold has not worn you down too much!**

**Last chapter's song was "Burning of Bridges" by Dayseeker**

**R&amp;R!**

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A foul odor singed Gambit's nostrils as weeping infused with French murmurs flooded his ringing ears. Rogue lay face down, curled in on herself as bile cut with tears crusted her once velvety cheeks. He had expected to awake to a ravishingly furious Rogue with nostrils flaring in what only could be described as cute fury with a fluster about her in regards to how exactly he should be dealt with. Yet, a considerably darker scene emerged about him as his eyes fluttered open. "Was jus' rough, dat's all," a rasp of Rogue's voice kept repeating and Gambit immediately knew which of his memories she had lived through as an iced pain gripped his chest. Anything but that…

The melancholy flowing from his words was unmistakable as they did not even struggle to escape his mouth, "Ah'm sorry, Chere. Ah'm so sorry." His deadened tone hardly even penetrated her stolen character. He recognized the denial and disgust convulsing through her, it was his. The sheer amount of destructive emotions overwhelming Gambit caused a numbness that displayed in his sunken eyes. Once again, he was compelled to peer upon a Rogue broken due to his actions. It was not that he had forgotten about that day, quite the contrary it haunted him, yet he had simply stepped back into line and buried it away, hoping no one would ever know. Silly aspirations, in retrospect.

"Remy—" the word was a rush of breathy heat that careened him immediately to her side. Soiled towel gathering about his husky hand in an attempt to create a barrier as he cupped the back of her head and plunged it into his broad nape for both their comfort as his other hand tangled into her matted hair so that his arms enveloped her. Gambit drew her into his lap as she silently wept. He knew the fault was his and his alone as even his firmest embrace seemed insufficient. A dampness saturated the cotton of his shirt as Rogue buried her countenance in it. Their minds screamed as silence befell the room and a red hue painted Gambit's strained features as he held her tighter and tighter. At first, the stance appeared to be coated in a bittersweet tenderness. The amount of dangerous skin on display mattered not to the overwhelming need he felt for both comfort and confession. Yet there was no explanation, no justification, no redemption. Rogue already knew why, had felt why and the reasons were less than defensible.

"It's okay, Mari—" he whispered into her tangled hair but was suddenly cut short by a roar seemingly too big for the petite woman in his lap to utter.

"Okay?! Y'think this is okay?" She shoved his shoulders away from her own and allowed him to clearly observe the ochre bile caked upon her once soft chest with streaks of tears and mucus dried throughout. "Y'mentally raped meh wit'another memory too volahtile t'subdue!"

Her eyes were electric as if a great lightning storm seethed behind them. That word made him physically flinch, he could not even utter it in his own mind. He made no attempt to argue with her, she knew more than the actions, she knew the truth behind them. Arguing would be pointless. He mouthed the phrase 'I'm sorry' more times than could be kept track of as she raged for possibly an hour, knots forming in his stomach all the while. "Y'couldn't get what y'wanted fo' once in y'r lahfe an' it was all because of meh?!" Her voice no longer spewed fire, but acid as he took each blow in strides knowing only veracity spit off her tongue.

As fatigue took Rogue's shattered figure her harsh tone began to mellow and the sorrow that had been smothered by hate shown in her remarkable eyes. "Y've got one hell of'a poker face," she remarked, "an' a'thousand clever wahrds t'match that seem t'get betta' all the tahme…" Shame furrowed his brow as she continued, "an' maybe one day you'll show me how as it truly seems t'be an art, but until then—"

Gambit interrupted with a desperate plea knowing what was to come, "But I love you."

Malice once again strangled the sobs in her throat as she proclaimed, "y'r honest wit' the people y'love Gambit," the scene was nothing more than a blur to her at this point, "otherwise it's a gamble." With that she gathered her clothes and marched away, the rest of her words running dry in her throat before they even formed. In the moments after the attack, Gambit reasoned he did not deserve Rogue and now that reasoning flowed through her as her own. Rogue never once called him disgusting or wicked as he thought she would, she did not have to. Walking away hurt more than it all.

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**Hope you all are enjoying the darker side of this story! **

**Let me know!**


	17. Corrode

**Hello beautiful people!**

**Last chapter's song was You're Gonna Go Far Kid by The Offspring**

**Please enjoy this next chapter and R&amp;R**

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The ghosts of his failures, both past and present, slithered about his feet akin to snakes, tripping him every chance they could. He peered upon their dangerous scales, going around and around his weak ankles until they slipped beneath the surface of his skin and dwelled inside. His own personal monsters. Gambit had been lost, for weeks he wandered about his apartment remembering, seeing past events unfold that he was helpless to change. It drove him mad and a deep psychosis began to set in. He was safe within the confines of his own home yet felt as if he were trapped upon a desolate glacier. Although the cabinets were stocked, he did not touch a single morsel.

The skin draped upon his chiseled cheekbones began to lapse into the newfound hollows of his countenance as more than just a five o'clock shadow masked the rest. A stench seeped through the fabric of his clothes as he neglected to change them and his hair slowly shifted from a luscious mane to a ratted mess. Even the scarlet brilliance of his eyes faded with time and retreated into sunken skin. Reliving and ripping through each of his sins one by one with no clear purpose in sight besides deserved penance was quickly destroying the man once known as Gambit.

He had lost.

And he was alone.

The urge to score a quick one nightstand with the hottest woman at the local bar had abandoned him this time and he completely surrendered to the emotions Rogue seeded within him, and he knew he had earned her hatred. Such loathing was not unjustifiably given, especially from Rogue who understood the psychological toll of touch and consent and protection perhaps better than anyone. Sure, it was one thing to steal a kiss now and then in hopes of proving her mutation was not a deterrent to his desires but what she witnessed with Brandi was a different monster entirely, and not one either knew if she could ever forgive.

Gambit struggled for a way back to here. Physically, there was little trouble. But emotionally? She had left him worlds away. Worlds behind. The path back was a blur if it even existed in the first place.

Rogue's lonely days did not fare much better than his. The mutants she considered to be family were no match for the unbridled sorrow that overtook her veins. Interests abandoned her and training became mundane, eventually her appetite too had fled. Sporadically, regret at her actions would stab her heaving chest like a knife. The decision to leave him behind was not fully her own, however she cannot say she disagreed full-heartedly either. The problem with acting upon another's thoughts is the questioning afterwards, when that psyche has faded to its proper recesses and Rogue can tell which ideas and actions were truly her own. The whole experience left her with a desperate need for control. Understandably so. She dealt with the consequences regardless, yet was not always fully in control of the causes. It was as if she were blamed for another's actions, however playing the victim was not necessarily viable either as she was still the one to perform such actions. A tailspin of guilt and responsibility suffocated her as each time her compulsion for control intensified. The sensation was not one any other person had in common with her or ever could, therefore an experienced confidant was more or less out of the question, and burdening a psychic with such a feeling almost seemed selfish and far too intimate not to send Rogue into a panic. Consequently, she portrayed a guilt-ridden, woeful ghost simply going through the motions.

Simultaneously, Gambit's fading muscles pricked at him more than usual this particular day as he was plagued with visions of Rogue, joyful visions. Her smile. Her eyes lighting up at the scene of Mardi Gras night. The hum in her voice as she showered. The flirty nip in her tone. The images were overwhelming as he was compelled to the floor in dizziness. The familiar sting of nausea played at his throat. It had been several days since he had vocalized any words, or even sounds for that matter, and he was living completely immersed in his own mind. His conscience conversed with itself in a maddening, ongoing tryst. Gambit was not even sure if he could speak anymore, or what his voice sounded like or how to control his own volume. Loneliness was not his forte, at least not the physical kind. The voice in his head was currently debating how close the porcelain color of his ceiling was to Rogue's untouched skin as he barely even endeavored to orient his legs in a way that they would be useful again. He felt as if his mind was tangled to him by chains so as to never escape the torturous thoughts it contains, and yet those chains were all that was keeping him from coming undone. Yet the chains burned, seared even and the concept of coming completely undone lost its ominous properties as his hands began to claw and purge the temples of his visage in an attempt to break the chains. For the first time in days, he screamed… in pain? In grief? In being overwhelmed? Most likely all three and more. Every mental penance and physical desire and built up, volatile emotion shattered and the shriek kept resounding without fault until his throat went hoarse. When his voice finally abandoned him, his physique collapsed back to the flooring beneath and the crack of an anguished grin curled just the corner of his mouth. His body languished there until the day turned to night in an odd flurry of agony and joy.

Eventually, Gambit compelled himself to venture into the downpour raging outside, the collar of his worn trench coat popped in a pitiable attempt at protection from the sharp droplets striking his face. A jumble of various plans and scenarios bombarded his mind as his feet led the way. Each one differed wildly, except they all shared a common aspect: Rogue. His near-frail figure yearned for her even, to turn a brisk walk into a gallop, a gallop into sprint, as the hissing rain almost fell perpendicular to his beaten form.

The city was alive that night, more than usual. A bustling of cars hummed to life and hunted as a pack up and down the slick roads. Even the occasional flare of a spouse's umbrella opening in chivalry had a higher abundance this night. He, too, was now a part of the night's pulse as he found himself lost to it. Lost in the psychological term, of course, as he arrived promptly at Xavier's gate.

Scaling slippery cement almost proved to be troublesome in his weakened state, but when his wavering feet landed on her balcony he was paralyzed. The tremendous thudding in his torso proved that the ice which seemed to build within his chest more and more with each lonely night never completely dried out his deserted heart. He peered through his own breath collecting on the glass of her balcony doors. Crimson orbs blazing in an otherwise stormy night. His breath suddenly abandoned him, if asked he would boast it was for stealth but in all honesty gazing upon that familiar room compelled the suave thief into a nervous wreck. Sounds caught in his throat and his own words gagged him as the dark opening squeaked ajar to illuminate a shard of carpeting. The silhouette of a woman entered and nimbly dropped to her knees. A gloved hand shakily released a bun of oily, two-toned hair as her elbows joined her knees on the floor. Gambit yearned to feel her close to him again as he stared, his words still amalgamated in his throat. Rogue's slender arms appeared to shuffle belongings about beneath her bed as a gentle fabric was dragged into view. At first the item seemed superficial, however Gambit quickly realized hardly anything was with her and that is when his curiosity peaked. Her movements, even in despair, were so fluid they resembled honey as Gambit studied them. Rogue stroked the mystery fabric in such a pained, yet loving way he ached to know the secret of it. His eyes burned with a purpose yet again.

He waited and watched until her eyes twitched in slumber and as he resolved to abscond from the tormenting scene, the words explaining how he feels, who he is, and what he needs all built up in his throat finally shattered with a simple, desperate…

"Rogue!"

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Disclaimer: I do not own X-men


	18. Almost

Welcome back!

Last chapter's song was Downpour by Sycamour

Just wanted to thank you all for allowing me to be creative in my writing and for giving such love and support

R&amp;R!

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"Remy," the breath conveying his name was barely a whisper as it escaped between Rogue's silken lips. Her nerves appeared to all stop firing at once as even the tips of her fingers felt paralyzed. Safe inside her dimly lit bedroom she peered upon the figure of a broken man, outlined by unforgiving, unending rain that cast a shadow about him, hiding all except his glowering eyes. Rogue had attempted not to torture herself with what-if scenarios of if he ever did return to her, after all they had seemed a pipedream at the time, yet now his image compelled her into a blank slate and she was utterly unprepared for what was to come.

The maze of swirled lines identifying Gambit's fingertips began smudging their signature on to the cool glass which separated the estranged mutants. His silent appeal for a way in was left unanswered, except for a pair of shining green orbs laced with a watery sheen gazing in his direction. The clatter of unforgiving hail abrading his environment was all but mute to him now as he was overcome with yearning, so much so it felt as if his head swelled and he would perform actions one would deem insane just to speak to her. His world once again stood still simply at her mere presence as his lips parted in an attempt to pray her name once more, yet only succeeded in capturing shards of falling water against its rugged curves. The weight of his hand ever increasing its pressure against the glass. A symbolic plea to an unperceivable visage. The emerald eyes only ever stared, with a sense of fear and also wonder trembling their core. It was difficult for Rogue to take pity on a face she had experienced contorted into vile brutality and brazen self-loathing, yet his shame now seemed to pulse and pour from the unhallowed scarlet in his eyes and beg for, not empathy, but mercy. Gambit's bewitching mouth parted with words lost to the raging storm as his hand began to crumple in on itself until a fist rested against the glass. A fist which sporadically beat against the transparent barrier as it was unclear whether rain or tears plagued his sharp cheeks. She drove him insane and the following effort was a maddened one, with little forethought and little afterthought, as Gambit cried out Rogue's name against the enraged sky.

All she did was watch…

Watch as his voice went hoarse.

Watch as his body went limp.

Watch as his eyes went dim.

She could not bring herself to run to his aid, yet she could not bring herself to leave him again. Maybe it seemed cruel to watch as a man tore himself apart, yet the task of opening her door to him was not as easy as it might appear. If light had permitted, Rogue's slender hand could have been perceived to be frozen in a foolish outreaching causing her to secretly thank the dark of night for the protective shroud. The whisper now begging escape from her enraptured lips embodied a sweetened tone thick with tender worry, "oh, Remy." The words barely even stirred her plum lips. "Ah'm sorry." A thud resounded through the thunderous night as his body slumped against the very door he pled entrance. He had lost once again and the defeats were seemingly crueler to accept each time. After some time had passed, had he been conscious enough to notice, Gambit would have perceived the undeniable creak of worn rubber against its hinges as Rogue's nimble hand clutched his shoulder and heaved his broken body out of the raging downpour. The pounding in her chest was deafening as the petite woman grunted against the weight of her once desired lover. Her mind raced with past memories, current emotions, and future panic if he were to be caught here. Now peering down at the body she had propped against her bedroom wall, Rogue remarked his sunken, ashen face which appeared to have drowned in the rain with features warped somewhere between determination and dread, and she had no idea how to wake him. Rogue prowled about him in endless observation, noting the slightest scar to the faintest rise in his hollowing chest. "Fool," she whispered as her gloved fingers unrolled his to gently examine bruised skin. She continued her caress digit by digit until to her surprise they suddenly clasped about hers with as much strength as Gambit could have mustered.

"Yo' nev'r said goodbye, Chere." The words were barely audible as his ethereal eyes winced in joy. She had no response, and could not pretend the separation was any easier on her than it was for him. Guilt compelled her eyes not to lock with his as she kept hold of the hand that damaged itself just in hopes of coming inside to her.

"Ah…" her voice chocked, "Ah didn' wan' to," and in that moment it was almost easy, easy to flop into his beaten arms exclaiming apologies and forgiveness and resolution and adoration and… but she couldn't. Her posture remained strong even if her heart did not. His renewing eyes pleaded with the side of her face, he knew patience would bring the best payoff yet had already spent so much time isolated from her crystalline eyes. He yearned to already be lost in the lush forest seeded within them.

"Rogue…" Her head remained cocked in miserable distance, yet she tightened her grip at the soft whisper of her name. His tired physique tugged at hers with all the power it could collect as the next whisper soothed across her ears comparable to velvet. "Come back to me." Shrouded by the night, Rogue's chest swelled as her mouth began to quiver. Even if she desired to speak, she could not. Longing for such a reaction, yet blind to hers Gambit continued, "I left yo' mentally bound and tied and I had no right to," his words were rehearsed and cascaded slowly from a damaged mouth, "I'm selfish Chere, 'spcially wit' yo'," he paused, "selfish even beneath d'skin, beneath _yo'_ skin…which is what matt'rs most… And…" Hot tears bursting with uncertainty welled up and distorted the vision of his inexplicable eyes. "And I am jus' asking fo' yo' to let me make it right."

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Disclaimer: I do not own X-men


	19. Reason

**Hello beautiful people of the fanfic world!**

**Last chapter's song was Almost Easy by Avenged Sevenfold**

**Hope you enjoy this one, too**

**R&amp;R!**

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Silence perforated the chilled air as Rogue's gloved hand slipped from his and cupped her face. She fell to her knees and arched her back akin to a child, forehead caressing the floorboards. Guilt radiated from her core and felt as if it gnawed her slender body into oblivion. Bowed down, every fiber of Rogue tore her in a different direction as a crazed laugh punctuated through her tears. Her head spiraled yet kept completely still in Gambit's eyes. Rogue was completely aware of his widened, worried gaze as her breath abandoned her in waves. "Rem—" her voice was soft, airy even, in blatant contrast to the situation. "Remy." The hellish scene swimming in his eyes became hopeful as he placed a hand on her covered shoulder. "Ah wish Ah could give ya' mah memories the same way Ah can take y'rs." But it was never that easy.

Gambit's arms instinctively reached to wrap around the smooth porcelain skin he had dreamt about every night during their separation. Her skin involuntarily twitched yet she made no attempt to escape. The spasm darted through her body with a wretched, truthful purpose… and Rogue ignored it. The touch burned even through the cloth of the oversized T-shirt she slept in. The touch of a ravager, in every sense of the word. Physically, emotionally, materialistically. Rogue encompassed so many reasons to turn away and seclude herself from him and his touch, maybe even a million if one were to keep count. She's succumbed to them time and time again, ran from him, held her breath around him, took every word that dripped from his succulent mouth with a grain of salt, and where had it gotten her? Utterly, hopelessly infatuated regardless of all the pain.

If he had come to act out a grand apology, he had been successful. Clutching the object of his desires closer than ever before, he drew Rogue completely into his battered lap. The lack of opposition both frightened and excited Gambit's wounded mind. "Anna," he whispered cautiously, his Louisiana accent almost undiscernibly thick. "May I call yo'dat?" The smoothness returning to his voice in the most endearing way possible. When the woman in his lap showed no sign of reacting he added even more warmth into his tone. "Anna Marie?" Her breathing hitched, yet her eyes remained distant. "Mon Cherie Anna Marie?" He paused and stroked a lock of her ivory hair, "I quite like d'sound o'dat." Rogue could not deny that she did too, consequently silence would have to do. Gambit watched with a silent smirk as her demeanor shifted at his affectionate words, a shift she clearly refused to admit yet. "'Course," he crooned, "don' matter what I call yo', jus' d'at I'm around to d'so, oui?" A haunted look entered his lively eyes at that thought and he abruptly snatched both of Rogue's shoulders and tipped her chin up to his with a gloved finger. "Rogue," he swallowed a lump in his throat (yes, Gambit, the charming, ragin' Cajun had a lump in his throat). "stay…" The whites of her eyes suddenly multiplied in size. "S'il vous plait," he almost begged, "don' leave me again." Her silence, which she held so meticulously until now, endeavored to break yet instead her slender jaw simply fell limp with not even cracks of noise escaping from it. She had never seen him this scared, this in need. The primal instincts he allowed for public viewing were usually a bit more… carnal.

Rogue was sure her breath would never return to her after peering into the part of Gambit's soul she was convinced did not exist. And it was no easy feat to regain, either. The raw, almost tangible, need for her that poured from him took her breath away. This degree of devotion was not about her body or what it could do for him, it was about a deep connection to her he would die without. It was about love, and he put it on display without hesitation. Maybe, just maybe it was about time she returned the favor? Although to do that, she would need to start breathing again.

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**Thanks for reading!**

**Searching for the perfect song for the next chapter then hopefully it'll be up soon(ish)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**


	20. Found

Hope i did not keep anyone waiting too long for this next chapter!

Last chapter's song was Million Reasons by Lady Gaga

Enjoy:)

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That fateful night he returned to her was Rogue's warning sign. The first twitch of her untouchable skin that she ignored. His hand, and his hand alone, was no longer a threat. This was a sensation Gambit had under no circumstances experienced before, being the only one she permitted to touch her even with her mutation. It was as if every caress, no matter how small, was a momentous gift, a special occasion solely reveled between them. She was not just another velvet canvas to gambol about, but a beautiful, dangerous reward of trust he could and would never feel with anyone else. Each consented stroke was a new and overpowering feeling of appreciative and prideful euphoria. The first time she did not flinch at his raised hand lofted his heart so high cloud nine had a difficult time comparing.

Gambit began to embark on nightly strolls through the mansion grounds that always happened to come to an end on Rogue's balcony. They met for coffee in the morning and gumbo in the evening. The two mutants were an honest to goodness couple with the beaming grins on their once sullen faces to prove it. The protected middle fingers of Gambit's hand had found their way around Rogue's midriff more than once and flushed her pale complexion a stunning rose. Students gossiped and the professors worried, yet their words could hardly penetrate the deep cloud encompassing Rogue she had denied herself for so long.

The striking yellow of her brother's eyes could be felt drilling into her more each and every day, until one morning he paced about her door. Rogue hummed from the inside as she slipped herself into a mesh top the color of emeralds. Their foreheads almost collided as she gamboled into the hall. "Kurt!" A heavy clomp of her boots could be heard as she darted backwards. "Good mornin' t'you too." She had glimpsed that particular brand of worry in his demonic eyes once before and was in no mood to defend her new seemingly liberal lifestyle. "Ah've got to g—"

The distressed creature in front of her placed the tip of his tail almost to her lips in a silencing motion. "Rogue," his voice as caring as it ever had been, "no one ever sees you anymore." Kurt's fang bit down into his azure lip. "People are worried."

A genuinely sincere smile crept across Rogue's glowing countenance, "Y'know when Ah first joined it was all about not bein' alone," she peered upon her brother with adoration which slowly mangled into annoyance, "an' now that Ah'm not, people are throwin' a'damn fit." The silk of her glove was lost to the fur of Kurt's chest as she shoved him aside.

"Be careful with him, Rogue!"

His warning, thick with the German accent of his adoptive parents, hung akin to paintings on the walls of the mansion and shadowed Rogue throughout. Would he be so callous if he knew the whole story? It was not his story to know. She would run out of air to breathe if forced to justify herself to everyone asking questions. Family trusts, without reason beyond knowing she placed her own trust within him, without all the details.

The chime of a rustic bell clamored atop an already crowded coffeehouse. Rogue was nearly late for their morning date, the evidence of which lied with the already half-eaten muffin remaining on the oak tabletop. "Ah wasn't hungry anyways," she quipped with a smile. The unusually cool morning air had nipped her features into a burning scarlet she had not yet recovered from.

"Serves yo' right fo' being late, Chere." The table screeched as he stood, closing the gap between them. "Let Remy fix d'at fo' yo'." The words melted into the warmth of his gloved thumb caressing her cheeks and nose. She did not flinch, did not even think to. They were lost to their own world, a world where such a simple gesture meant a lifetime of hardship overcome. A fellow patron cleared her throat and snapped them out of such a beautiful world. Now Rogue's cheeks flushed for a new reason. "Better?" Her childlike bashfulness nodded furiously. "Bon," he whispered as his thumb trailed over her bottom lip and he gently pressed his lips to the charcoal fabric. His charm really did know no bounds. Even the barista, who ogled Gambit morning after morning, seemed to swoon.

"Keep pullin' stunts lahke that, Swamp Rat an' Ah won't know which way is up."

"I would be mo' d'en happy to help yo' wit' d'at, mon Marie." A devil lurked within the oncoming smirk at his own desires, growing with each passing second. "Could even take turns." The light in her eyes faded and Gambit worried his crude comments had finally done him in. Rogue glanced about the quant coffee shop with its weathered bookcases and oversized loungers. Her courage fluctuated as she watched a couple snuggle together and share a chair clearly meant for one. It was not until she permitted her eyes to meet Gambit's once again that he noticed the immeasurable sorrow whirling within them.

"Talk some sense t'meh, shugah." Her violet lips curled into a fleeting hysterical smile laced with sadness and if she hadn't had his full attention, she did now. "'Cause the whole damn world seems t'thahnk we can't have that." Just a taste of a physical relationship without fear was far more than enough for Rogue, Gambit too (but only when it came to her), yet the desire for more never fully passed and even what they currently had seemed taboo to those that knew her best.

The very corners of Gambit's mouth turned downward for a split second. "Yo' keep talking like d'at, Chere and yo'll lose yo' mind."

She swiped her thumb over the plump center of her lips where he had kissed his and chuckled, "Ah thought Ah already did."

Gambit's pride nearly blinded him as he peered upon her honeyed face, a face he knew he had caused. She was his focal point, not only the center of his desires but of his world, his steadier. His impressive torso suddenly leant over the table and nose to nose, he whispered, "Let's get out o' here, no?"

Their hearts raced while straddling the seat of his bike for two very different reasons. Rogue nuzzled her button nose into the collar of his trench coat in an endeavor to escape the chilling wind, but really she simply could not fill her senses enough with the aroma of spice and smoke that seeped off her partner.

Being led up to Gambit's apartment by the waist was a guilty pleasure for Rogue. She had spent her whole life under self-inflicted restraints, purposefully alone. And now Remy LeBeau, who had boasted far more than his fair share of women, wanted nothing more than to broadcast to anyone looking that this untouchably dangerous girl was his. She adored that sensation.

Gambit's breath caught as the cool metal of the doorknob iced his fingertips. They had ventured into his apartment many times, yet this time he determined to sear into her memory for a very different reason.

The words about popped out of his eager mouth before Rogue had even removed her jacket. "Chere," the almost frantic excitement in his voice caught her completely off-guard. Her eyes widened as she pivoted to see an outstretched hand, a bare outstretched hand. She had never truly noticed how rough they really were. Patches of calloused skin cut with deeply lain scars were finally on full display. The sight of his strapping, strong, and ultimately beaten hands were a beautiful reminder of the past he kept hidden and just about stole Rogue's breath from her lungs.

"Rem— what is this?"

"Toget'er" he insisted upon his hand, "I want us to be one." And with those simple words Rogue's gauge broke. What was safe, what was not… gone. Her gloved hand quickly, timidly clasped his and he yanked her physique towards him without hesitation. Entangling his bare hand into her silky tresses, he pinned a mix of alabaster and auburn hair tight around his fist and lifted her with his free arm. They never touched. His forearm was propped properly beneath Rogue's thighs as he motioned for her to hold on tight. The ripped jeans surrounding her legs suddenly wrapped about Gambit's waist and squeezed in exhilaration and terror. He coughed before revealing his signature smirk, "Easy girl, I need to be able to breathe fo' d'is." Her expression immediately blanked as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The hand he had tangled in her hair, relaxed and began to tuck snow white bangs behind her red hot ears. "Relax, Anna. Yo' can't mess up." A nervous laugh escaped through the lip she was currently chewing on. "Here," he whispered into her ear and felt the subsequent shiver rip through her spine.

Gambit sauntered the duo towards his lush bed instead of ramming her up against the brick wall as he had planned. He could sense her heartbeat race and could not deny that his felt any different. Endeavoring to keep a calm demeanor to comfort Rogue, instead of the feral one which begged a more tantalizing escape with each passing second, he laid his untouchable beauty on to her back and admired the view. He slunk his way between her legs and hovered inches above her. "Belle7," the rasp of a whisper was more to himself than her as he caressed her sides through a purposefully tattered olive sweater. Reveling in the full body squirm Rogue was desperately trying to repress, Gambit swiftly flipped the fabric over her plush lips and pressed his into it with the full force of his carnality. She squealed in joyful shock as he had already moved on, not letting her process any one stimuli for too long. His scruff left a trail of fire along her porcelain nape as he followed the path he dreadfully desired to leave kisses instead of scratches. Gambit's broad hands clasped about Rogue's protruding hip bones and ground them into the mattress beneath. (He knew full well this would not cease the squirming.)

Rogue's still covered hands snarled their way into his thick hair. She was not sure what possessed her to put them there or even what to do now that they were, yet when her lover roughly grasped her outer thigh, she involuntarily bucked. Her initial reaction was apologetic at having yanked his hair, however the suggestive growl that seemed to purse from Gambit's lips at the pain had her reconsidering that. "Rough it is," he grinned before tearing the button from Rogue's jeans as the zipper could be heard wrenching open. A diminutive jewel shone up at his lustful face. Perhaps it was just another form of self-torture or perhaps Rogue just enjoyed looking good, either way she always adorned the most tempting lingerie sets. Such a fact was painfully unknown to Gambit until this moment. His smirk deepened to the point Rogue thought it might cut right through his cheek as his already burning eyes appeared to glow with the crimson spark of his mutation. The gem, overlaying satin and lace, now reflected pink in his exhilaration.

His thumb caressed the dark lace that trailed from hip to hip as a shudder ripped through Rogue. Gambit's growing excitement at Rogue's every flinch and whimper was nearly painful at this point. Subsequently, his tongue replaced his thumb in trailing the lace across her lower abdomen. "Rem—" she breathed, but never finished as the fabric that lay above her clitoris suddenly became damp with the presence of Gambit's tongue. Rogue had never experienced such sensations before and her nerves were utterly overwhelmed. Every flick of his tongue caused quakes throughout her body. Her breathing was ragged enough to the point where she could not call out to her lover for aid. However, one screech that filled Gambit's bedroom was of terror not pleasure and he immediately jerked from his position to gaze upon Rogue who was panting.

"Chere," the word carried worry with it as he crawled over her until they were face to face, "Yo' okay?"

"It's jus'," her chest rose and fell at a substantial pace, "a lot…"

Abruptly, the worry dropped and was replaced with an endearing smile that beamed down at Rogue's perspiring visage. "We go slow d'en, oui?" Gambit's scarred hand began gently caressing her upper arm. "As slow as yo' need." She was sure Gambit was not accustomed to 'going slow' and almost felt childish needing him to. Yet could Rogue really be too guilty about not having experience in a field she physically could not experience? No. Her lips parted to release a squeak that never quite formed a word. "Slow'r?" His hand brushed the fabric covering her arm at a painfully unhurried rate, lingering over every nerve for at least a second. The action was far more taunting than comforting and Rogue's gloved hand shot over Gambit's to momentarily cease its movements. The hellish orbs he harbored as eyes scanned her for warning signs and found that she merely needed to catch her breath.

A labored pulse of air shot from her dry mouth as a pained smile took her lips. "Gahd, Ah want t'kiss ya'rahght now, Remy." Right in front of her hovered the one man, one mutant, she never expected to find. Was never supposed to find. And he was coming closer, and closer, and closer…

… Rogue grinned as a fool would as she lay next to an unconscious body; she had gotten exactly what she wanted.

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**Disclaimer: I do not own X-men**


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